


Unorthodox

by lady_summoner



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dragoons, Military, Military Background, Military Backstory, Other, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, theorycraft fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:44:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 38,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13260045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_summoner/pseuds/lady_summoner
Summary: (FFXIV JOB THEORYCRAFT FIC.  WILL BE SLIGHTLY NON-CANON FOR THE SAKE OF CREATIVITY.)  The Knights Dragoon are oftentimes seen as an example of Halonic virtue, a romantic ideal for the men and women of Ishgard to aspire towards and admire.  But the Dragoons themselves are only mere men and women, fighting to protect their city while dealing with the stresses of their sworn duty and the prices demanded of them as payment... (in progress)





	1. Paperwork

**Author's Note:**

> This...pretty much took a big bite out of me while I was working on the third chapter of A Dragoon and a Summoner. I've always enjoyed playing my Dragoon and reading the lore about them, and there's not honestly a lot on how they train or even everyday normal work in the Knight-Dragoon order. So cue my brain coming up with insanely random ficbits here and there, along with me squeezing a military buddy who also plays a dragoon for tidbits of military life xD. I apologize if I've gotten anything wrong, I'm cheerfully open to any debate on the theories fictionalized below, and I hope you enjoy reading my brain-drivel. XD XD
> 
> I should also point out, I am purposefully splitting away from the lore on the aspect of how many active-service dragoons there are. I know this was a hot topic when the lorebook first came out. I personally feel the lore number can't be correct based on certain aspects (again, talking with a military buddy) and how Ishgard itself is set up, but that's an explanation for a later date. There is also references (at least I took them as such) to a dragoon-school of sorts in the Congregation, thus my reference to such below.
> 
> Please enjoy! *bow*

                The office was silent as Heustienne looked over the report Brucemont had given her.  

                “…This is it?”  She asked.  “These are all the trainees the school can offer us?”  She looked up at the blue-haired elezen, shocked incredulity in her eyes.  “I can’t show Estinien this!”

                “If it helps, you’re not the only one upset over that list.”  Brucemont ventured.  “Our trainers are just as shocked.  They’re used to low numbers, but that’s…”  He gestured to the paper.  “That breaks the record for the minimum number of squires they’ve ever given us for the next step of their training.”  Reaching into the folio he was carrying, Brucemont handed Heustienne another set of papers.  “You may have to tell Wrymblood that the bulk of the trainees could be coming from our dragoons who took squires to train on their own instead of pulling from the school.”

                “He may not like that…”  Heustienne muttered.  Pressing her lips together, she started to read what Brucemont had given her, her face smoothing out into a calmer expression.  “However, this is much better.”

                “I figured you would like the numbers in that report.”  Brucemont said with a  wry grin.

                “Has there been a chance to perform a general assessment yet?”  Heustienne asked, turning a page. 

                “Not yet, but from what I’ve taken away from the information so far, their numbers have stayed fairly consistent.  But then again, we’re a lot harder in individual training than in the classroom, so it’d make sense that the squires who were trained by individual members of the Order would have more staying power than the students at the school.”  Brucemont looked down at his own notes, paging through the sheets until he found the one that he was looking for.

                “Here we go.  There’s six squires that are ready for drachen-mail trials, they can be staggered with what’s coming from the Congregation’s school.”  He said.  “That leaves an additional seven from the High Houses.  Out of those seven, five of their teachers have expressed a desire to set up their trials personally.” 

                “Have you any survival predictions yet based on what you’ve read?”  Heustienne asked, leaning back in her seat.  She watched as Brucemont sighed, shaking his head.

                “Honestly, the bulk of our first-years could be coming from the individual trainers.”  He said.  “We may get nothing at all from the school-trainees.  Unless the Fury has them high in her favor, they’re either going to wash out the minute they enter our training core, or die on duty.  At least with the dragoons who took on squires, their students stand a better chance at passing what we’ll put them through, and survive patrol-strings.”  Heustienne nodded.  She picked up the papers and started to read them more thoroughly.

                “…Bellarose hasn’t killed his squire yet?”  She said, surprised.

                “He makes it through the trials and his first year, he’ll be a deadly bastard to run into.” Brucemont said, snorting.  He watched as Heustienne raised an eyebrow.

                “Fortemps’ Pendragon finally took a squire on?  And he’s putting in a request for the boy to start senior core training?”

                “He pulled him from the school about two moons back.  But…”  Brucemont gestured.  “I put in a special notation if you haven’t seen it yet.  It may be something you want to investigate, the boy’s run afoul of the Inquisition several times.”  He made a face.  “Poor bugger’s on their shite list, and it’s no fault of his.”

                “Bloody hell.”  Heustienne muttered.  “I’ll check on that today.”  She flipped though the rest of the papers.  “What are the rotations like?”

                “String-switch this afternoon.”  Her first-in-command said.  Dragoon-patrols were called ‘strings’’, as they followed wind-currents throughout Coerthas.  “Some skirmishes reported, but no major injuries or losses…”  The blue-haired elezen checked his papers.  “Coldfire is reporting that he’s got a lead on another nest of Iceheart’s followers, however.”

                “That goes to the Temple Knights.”  Heustienne ordered.  Setting down the papers, she cricked her neck from side to side.  “Have you looked into freeing up any more bodies for Graoully’s hunt?”      

                “It’s possible, but you’d be commanding the junior knights.”  Brucemont warned.  Rank-and-file dragoons were simply known as Knight-Dragoon and a given title, they were the ones who had between two to five years of service.  “If you wanted any of the seniors such as you and me, you’d have to wait for the next string-switch.”  Dragoons with six years of service or more were considered ‘seniors’, and depending on their experience, held ranks from second-lieutenant to captain.  Brucemont himself was a captain, while Heustienne held the rank of First Lance, the Azure Dragoon’s second-in-command.  A frustrated growl escaped Heustienne, but she closed her eyes and shook her head.

                “If we must wait, we must wait.”  She said.  “But we must kill Grauolly, and soon.  He cannot be allowed to wreak any more havoc in the Western Highlands, we have enough difficulty maintaining the supply-lines out there as it is.”  With a sigh, she rose from her chair, and Brucemont snapped to attention.  “I’ll go see the Azure now.”

                “I’ll have the next two fortnights’ rotation on your desk by this afternoon, First Lance.”


	2. Politics (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even as a neutral organization, the Knights-Dragoon have to deal with the politics of the Holy See...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The theorycraft madness continues! Given the climate of Ishgard, it goes without saying that even with Estinien's declaration later on in HW that the Knights Dragoon would stay out of the city's power struggles-the Order itself would have deal with House and Church politics. Also the chapter itself is set after the Warrior of Light's fight in the Tribunal, but before their meeting with the Archbishop.)
> 
> (One more note: The canon to me seems to give mixed signals on the usage of anything coming from dragons-it's vilified by the Church, but at the same time you have a levequest demanding dragonskin for book bindings, and the dragoons themselves are running around in armor dipped in the blood of dragons, and use it as a source of power... So my operating theory is that the Knights Dragoon keep silent on the reagents they use for their armor. And while it's a very real possibility that the Church probably knew about this, there's also the fact that the Dragoons are a very small force in comparison to the Church itself, who had a lot of power at the time, so there could be a element of potential danger there.)

                “Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye.  All rise or rather, remain on your lazy arses-”

                “Halone’s tits, Stephan, shut the fuck up!”  The hyuran man grinned cheekily, and bowed to a alburn-haired elezen woman clad in green drachen mail. 

                “I’m with Illeanne.”  Another man said.  His brown hair was messy, with his drachen armor a gunmetal-gray color.  His eyes were sky-blue, and while his features were hyuran, his ears were tapered, betraying his elezen heritage.  “The city-string was shite today.  I want to go home to a nice hot meal and a roaring fire.”

                “What, no orgy tonight, Matthaios?”  Illeanne broke out into cackles as Matthaios made a rude gesture at her.

                “If you two are done with the foreplay…”  A tired looking Duskwight interjected.  Long white hair was starting to fall out of a messy queue, and his armor looked battered as if he’d just come out of a fight.  “I haven’t slept for the past three suns, I just got off the frostbite string, and if I don’t see my bed within the next bell I will kill someone.”

                “Kauchiox, you may end up doing so anyway, considering your House is the reason why we’re all having this impromptu meeting.”  Stephan said, sitting down and reaching for a quill.  His fellow dragoon blinked.

                “…Wait.  Is it about those rumors…?”

                “Not rumors but fact.”  Illeanne said.  Kauchiox swore violently, and dropped his head onto the table.

                “I fucking hate my House!”  He snarled.  The four dragoons gathered were the Order’s representatives to their respective High Houses of Ishgard.  Even though the Knights Dragoon themselves were neutral, oftentimes many of its’ members either came from families that were sworn vassals to a High House, occasionally were members of the House itself, or came from the High Houses’ armies.  To help ensure that the Order stayed free of the power games that Ishgard’s elite were known for, the Dragoon representatives generally kept an eye on any matters that could or were affecting their fellow brothers and sisters in arms.  Potential or current issues were discussed, options were considered, and plans of attack (once cleared by the Azure and the First Lance) put into effect. 

                “Your House has fucking idiots, I’m dealing with a vassal-House coup in mine.”  Matthaios said, rubbing at his eyes.  “Pendragon’s family went completely to shite, and Count Fortemps finally had to step in.”

                “Is Cobalt alright?”  Illeanne asked, concern on her features.

                “He’s fine, all moony-eyed over his new fiancée.”  Matthiaos said, waving a hand.  “But he’s now Head of his House, and is going to have his hands full getting the See to sanction his marriage-please don’t ask me the details, I don’t have them yet.”  He exhaled gustily.  “However, he is properly knotted up over this woman and it’s fucking funny to watch.”

                “I have got to see this.”  Stephan said, his eyes wide.  “Pendragon, losing his mind over a woman?”

                “You’ll have a chance, he’s on city-string this change.”  Matthiaos lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck.  “As for what’s going on, I’ll know what happened tomorrow after I meet with the Count’s steward.”

                “Things have been quiet-well, mostly quiet in Hallienarte.”  Illeanne said.  “Everyone’s still processing the news of the primal, so they’re too busy to cause trouble.”

                “Any confirmed plans on what Laniette wants to do?”  Kauchiox asked, curious. 

                “She’s pushing for-and from what I hear, going to get her funds to overhaul Camp Cloudtop.”  Illeanne answered.  “Which honestly was long overdue.  The Congregation’s needed to shore up that for ages, and the Holy See using it as a glorified parking lot for that piece-of-shite airship didn’t help with how the general rank-and-file saw duty in the Sea of Clouds.”

                “Morale is up then, huh?”  Stephan asked.

                “Through the roof.”  Illaenne reached over to steal Stephan’s quill and a piece of paper to start writing her own notes.  “Also, I have the same request from Skysteel, ‘please stop using our sodding warehouse roofs for jumping’.”

                “Request ignored.”  Stephan said with a grin, while Matthiaos and Kauchiox snorted.  “But in the same vein, Durendaire’s been quiet, mostly focusing on will adjustments and the like.”

                “Will adjustments?”  Matthiaos repeated, curious.

                “Marriages.”  Stephan said, idly waving a hand.  “Along with some children reaching their majorities.”  He frowned.  “There is one thing I need to investigate, however.  Are any of you familiar with an Arlette Curault?”

                “Short elezen, black hair, tendency to always have a book on her, even on strings?”  Illaenne said.

                “Didn’t she throw one at a dragon once during a kill?”  Kauchiox asked.

                “That’s her.”  Stephan said.  “She wasn’t herself when I was on one of the Central Highlands’ strings with her last sennight.  I had to do a bit of poking and prodding, but I found out she’d basically given away her life-savings to her sister, so she could leave the service of one of Durendaire’s vassal Houses.”

                “What the hell?”  Illaenne exclaimed. 

                “What house?”  Matthiaos asked, eyes narrowed.

                “House Vildaire.  According to Arlette, the housekeeper broke a priceless vase and blamed it on her sister.  The vase’s value had to be paid off completely before she could be allowed to leave, but Arlette suspected that there was more to the story.”

                “I’ve heard some rumors about that House.”  Illaenne said slowly.  “Their lord…he seems to have a taste for his wife’s maids.”  Stephan nodded.

                “The matter seems to be settled, considering the sister is now out and away, but I want to check to make sure there’s no loose ends.”  He said.  “Also, I want to get Arlette her money back.”

                “Drag the housekeeper in front of the Tribunal building.  She’ll smarten up quick and hand it back before you can jump to the roof.”  Kauchiox said.  He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I’ll meet with Count Dzemael personally tomorrow.  He can’t avoid me if I make a full formality of it.”  Groaning, the Duskwight slumped back against his seat.  “But I would kill for a moon, just one moon, in which the Halone-damned lot of them don’t start anything, don’t aggravate anything…”

                “Considering they’re now the focus of a lot of unwanted attention, you might be getting your wish.”  Matthiaos said.  He glanced over at Stephan.  “Is there any more business that needs to be discussed, or can we…” 

                “Ah…”  Stephan racked his brain.  “Yes, there is.  Brucemont’s said drachen-mail trials will begin within the next two fortnights.  Three suits are ready and up for grabs, but the smithy’s running low on blood and scales, even in their reserves.”  The other three dragoons winced.  The drachen armor was adamantite that was fused with dragon-scale and treated with dragon-blood.  Without those two reagents, the Knights Dragoon was robbed of one of their sources of power for their skills.  However, given the Church’s stance on dragons…

                “Can the smithies free up their apprentices for a hunt?” Illaenne asked. 

                “Not this go-round.”  Stephan said, shaking his head.  “We’re going to have to do the grunt-work, and already looking at the schedule, it’s going to be hard to pull together a group.  Add in the Inquisition being nosy right now and…”  The other three dragoons groaned, and Stephan shrugged helplessly.

                “Sorry.”

                “No no.”  Matthiaos said.  He leaned forward, rubbing one of his temples.  “It is what it is.”

                “Let me look over the current schedule.”  Illaenne offered.  “There could be a unit that could probably get a quick hunt on in Western Coerthas and sneak back in with some supplies.”  Stephan nodded.

                “That’s it then.”  He pushed himself up from his seat.  “We’ll just keep each other informed-and if something goes to the seventh hell, ring out over the pearl.”  The other three dragoons nodded.


	3. Sex (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a force made up out of fighting men and women, it should come as no surprise that sex in the Knights Dragoon can be oftentimes complicated...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Interlude chapter. Sexual/implied sexual content ahead. Consider yourself warned.)

                As far as brothels went, the Gilded Spear was the more favored one by the Congregation on a whole, especially among the Knights Dragoon.  It was clean, discreet, and rumor had it that the madam in charge was able to steer clear of the Inquisition’s ‘purges’ due to having a few high-ranking Church officials in her pocket.  Plus, it was the only house of pleasure in Ishgard where the female dragoons could find men.  Otherwise on their end, they would be forced to look for lovers among their fellow Knights (while it did happen, it was technically frowned upon) or among the general population of the city.  And considering that sexual promiscuity was heavily frowned upon on by the Church, the less attention that was called to one’s bedroom activities, the better…

 

\---------------------

 

                It was early in the morning when Oeric Singer made his way out of one of the Gilded Spear’s bedrooms and down it’s main staircase.  A third-year dragoon, he’d just come off his patrol-string the night before, and had been seeking some pleasurable (and warm) company.  Rolling his shoulders, he made his way for the door, only to stop and turn his head.

                “What brings the Lady of the house to see me?”  He quipped.  A blond-haired elezen woman approached him from the shadows, clad in a fine silk dressing gown, her hair pulled back into a loose bun. 

                “Normally I’d let you sulk out like the manwhore you are, but…”  The woman paused, adjusting the folds of her gown.  “Consider this a warning, I wouldn’t visit her any more if I were you.”  Oeric blinked in surprise, he wasn’t expecting this.  

                “Beg pardon?”

                “She’s been bragging about ‘landing’ a dragoon.  Has plans on catching your baby in her belly.”  The elezen woman watched as Oeric’s eyes narrowed.  “I hope for your sake you’ve been using protection, otherwise you’re fucked, honey.”

                “…Thank you.”  Oeric said after several moments.  His good mood had fled, as had the languid relaxation that had been settling into his bones.  “I should be fine in that regard, but I think I’ll not be coming back here for a while.”  The madam watched as he turned back towards the door, striding away.

 

\-----------------------

 

                “Come back to beeed.”

                “No, I can’t.”  Laughing, a black-haired elezen woman pushed herself out of the bed, moving to pick up scattered pieces of drachen mail that were on the floor.  “I have city patrol today, I’ve got to be on the string in an hour.”

                “You’re always working, Celeste.”  The man in the bed sulked, crossing his arms.

                “Well, the city’s safety comes first.”  Armor pieces clinked as Celeste started to put them back on.  “You knew this when we first started, I’m sorry.”

                “Don’t you want to retire?”  The question made Celeste stop, and she lifted her head to stare at her companion in the mirror.  “How long have you been doing this?  Seven years?  That’s long enough, isn’t it?  You should start to think about settling down, have a child.”  He blinked as Celeste suddenly started to move again, putting on her armor faster.  “Celeste?”

                “I’ll call you later.”  The elezen woman said.  She flexed the fingers of her right hand as she put on her gauntlet, then reached for her Gale Bog that was leaning against the wall next to the door.  “You can see your way out, yes?”

 

\-------------------

 

                “Sign here, here, and…”  The clerk yelped as the thick packet of papers was swiped from him.  “Ser Callix!”

                “I just want to get this fucking over with!”  The elezen reached for a quill, starting to hastily sign his name to the marked spots on the papers.  “The sooner I can get this done, the sooner I can kick that bitch out of my life and I can try to put it fucking back together!”

                “Now ser…”  The clerk stammered, adjusting his glasses.  “It couldn’t have been all that bad.  I mean, surely there were some difficulties with you being gone on duty, but…”

                “Here.”  Callix shoved the papers at the other man.  “Is it finished?”

                “Ah…ah…”  The clerk quickly flipped though the packet.  “Y-yes ser.  I suppose you’ll be wanting to deal with the Church’s legalities on divorce when you return from your duty…”

                “The whore cheated on me.  She should be dealing with them, not me!”

                “And-and she will, ser!  It’s just that there needs to be from both parties…”  A dragon-like snarl had the clerk muffling a shriek, gathering up his bag and hurrying towards the door.

                “We can finish when you’re back from your duty!  Halone bless you, ser!”  The room fell silent after the younger elezen’s hurried departure, and Callix hung his head, hands lifting to fist his in hair.  Hot tears threatened to spill from his eyes, yet he held them back though sheer force of will.

_Three years…three years.  I was faithful, I was loyal…and this is what I get?_

 

\-----------------------

 

                A brown-haired hyur opened one eye, peering at the chronometer that was illuminated by a faint strip of light from the lamppost outside on the far wall.  It was after midnight, and the city itself was deep in slumber.  The room was the right balance between hot and cold, and she was quite warm beneath her covers.  The man that had just joined her on the other hand…

                “I’ll have you know ser, I’m waiting for my fiancée to return.”  She said primly.   There was a chuckle, and then a pair of hands settled on her hips.  “He’s a very important Knight-Dragoon of the city, and I don’t think he’d be pleased to find you here.”

                “I don’t know about that…”  With a giggle, the brunette allowed herself to be pulled over to the other side of the bed.              

                “Ah, you’re cold!”  She squealed.

                “Now this is a very nice thing to find when one returns from a patrol…”  There was another squeal, and then a man’s chuckle.  “A very nice thing indeed.”


	4. Patrol (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on patrol, a Knight-Dragoon unit finds they've got just a little bit more on their plate to deal with other than dragons...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Reaching out a bit into stretch territory here I feel, but. Considering the Knights-Dragoon can get around Coerthas possibly faster than the Temple Knights, I figured it was a possibility that on occasion they were called to do some work for the Inquisition. As for Shiva, well...stands to reason that they'd try the summoning again. After all, that seems to be the implied story for her EX fight... *shrug*)

                Upon passing their drachen-mail trials, dragoons were assigned a partner and put into a unit consisting of four members.  From there, the units were assigned to a different patrol-string of Coerthas whenever they were on shift.  Depending on the situation, patrols could last for as little as a week to a full moon.  Some were also easy, such as the patrols in the Sea of Clouds (pre-Bismarck), while others were extremely difficult (the Dusk Vigil string, or the Xelphatol string—made even worse if Garuda was summoned). 

                Once on the string, the dragoons followed a set schedule.  12 hours on patrol in the sky, jumping from point to point, following the wind currents, ever watchful for dragons or any of the Horde, then switch out with the other pair in the unit with them for a chance at rest and food.  Camps were made in little caves or alcoves that provided some protection from the now-bitter Coerthas winds.  And scattered inbetween the strings were the occasional shrine to Halone/memorial to their fallen brothers or sisters.  It wasn’t uncommon to see frozen offerings of food and drink, along with small trophies from patrols or hunts set up at the altars.

                And on occasion, those who were out on patrol-strings were often called to perform extra duties…

 

 

                “For fuck’s sake why can’t the Inquisition send out their own fucking people to do their own fucking investigation?  Get their fucking arses out of their fucking warm chairs and actually do some godsdamned work…”               

                “Will you stop bitching?! Stop bitching for one-no, five fucking minutes! That’s all you ever do! Bitch bitch bitch bitch!”

                “Excuse you, I am expressing my opinion, which I have a right to, and-”  Matthiaos rolled his eyes, turning his head to stare back at the duo behind him.

                “Will you two please just shut the fuck up!”  Alongside him, his partner—a black-haired elezen in silver armor—snorted.  “Halone’s tits, you’re like a married couple!”  Two drachen-mail helms snapped towards him-one ruby red, the other a sky blue.

                “Like you’re any better?”             

                “Coldfire, seriously.  Shut the fuck up.”  Matthiaos snapped.  The sky-blue dragoon lifted his helm, revealing a hyuran man with vivid green eyes.  “You reported this in.  What in the name of Halone’s halls made you think that the Inquisition was going to do their own follow-up work out here?”

                “Eternal bright-eyed optimism?”  Coldfire shot back.  His partner snorted, pushing up their own helm-revealing that she was also a hyur.

                “If you’re a fucking optimist, then I’m a noble.”  She snapped, violet eyes flashing. 

                “Alright, alright, everyone calm down.”  Matthiaos’ partner raised one gauntleted hand.  His armor was teal in color.  “We’re all tired and a little stabby.”

                “Understatement of the moon, Jeannoix.”  The red-armored dragoon said.  Jeannoix gave her a deadpan look.

                “We know you two need to rest.”  He said, pointing at the duo.  “You two start bouncing off the walls and each other when you haven’t gotten enough sleep.  You didn’t have to come, you could have just as easily told us the location, and Matthiaos and I could investigate this place ourselves.”

                “And what if you got attacked by heretics?”  Coldfire said, crossing his arms.  “No.  You need backup, and that’s what Brigid and I are here for.”  Bridgid nodded.

                “Not like we can do much anyway.”  Matthiaos said, turning back to survey the staircase in front of him.  “Dead-Eye and his unit can’t cover us for long.”  Holding up a hand, he summoned a ball of dragonfire to provide some illumination, starting to walk down the stairs.  The cellar of the abandoned house looked as if it’d seen better days, with everything covered in a layer of frost.  Yet it looked as if someone had been in the room recently, as there were still clear footprints on the floor and drag marks in the frost, indicating something had been moved.

                “The weather’s been absolute shite lately, even more than normal.”  Bridgid said.  “Normally when it gets like this, the heretics just bunker down and wait for a clear day before they start scuttling between the abandoned villages.”  Coldfire nodded.  “So we were surprised when we saw and tracked that group moving though the blizzard to here…”  Jeannoix had moved over to several frozen wine casks, investigating them. 

                “Matthiaos, here.”  He said.  Matthiaos turned his head.  “I sense aether coming from these.”

                “Aether?”  Coldfire echoed.  Matthiaos moved to stand next to Jeannoix, placing a hand against one cask.  Tapping on it with clawed fingers, he frowned.

                “This…”  He tapped again, and then reached for the cork.  It pulled off easily.  “…Alright then.  These haven’t been here for long, despite how they look on the outside.”

                “Move, Mat.”  Jeannoix said.  Gripping the cask, he braced himself and sent it flying to the ground.  The wood splintered and cracked, revealing the sparkle and flash of crystals hidden within.  All four dragoons froze, staring at the unexpected contents.

                “…Matthiaos?”  Jeannoix ventured after several moments.

                “Yes.”

                “Those are…”  Brigid breathed, eyes wide.

                “Yes.”  Matthiaos repeated. 

                “Are you thinking what I’m thinking-” Coldfire began, sucking in a breath.  He hurried to another cask, balling one mailed hand up into a fist and punching though the wood.  As he withdrew his hand, more crystals sparked under the glow of Matthiaos’ dragonfire.

                “All of these are probably filled with crystals.”  The Fortemps dragoon breathed, looking around the cellar once more.

                “Shiva?”  Jeannoix dared to ask, looking at his partner.  Matthiaos offered a quick nod.

                “Has to be.”  He said.  “And if that’s the case, we need to take care of these and be gone before the heretics come back.”      

                “I’ll raise Redwald on the pearl.”  Brigid said, turning and heading for the stairs.  “Frostwhisper’s unit should be right next to them, they can help get them over here.”

                “I’ll go keep an eye out.”  Coldfire added.  “We weren’t followed on our way here, but the weather should be clearing soon.”  Matthiaos nodded. 

                “Tell them to be quick about it.”  He ordered.


	5. Squires (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the heels of a senior dragoon's death, the squires of the Knights-Dragoon try to make sense of what happened, just as the Dragonsong War begins to shift on the path towards its' end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So for this, I decided to snag my dragoon to give a point of view from the squires-Reinhardt. Please pardon his usage, it's for creative purposes.)

                The air in the Knight-Dragoon area of the Congregation was always grim following the deaths of those who had fallen in duty.  And while it appeared rather callous to the untrained eye that the dragoons carried on as normal, there were signs that every death did affect the Order.  The trainers were harsher on the squires, the medics were grim-faced and silent, and there would be a steady stream of dragoons filing in and out of the memorial tower to the dead, leaving small offerings and prayers for their fallen kin. 

                But when it was a senior dragoon who had fallen, the mood seemed to be ten times worse…

 

\--------------

 

                Reinhardt Beauregard let himself sprawl on one of the floor-mats as his class trainer stalked towards the door.  Around him his fellow squires were doing the same, stifling low moans and groans o pain.

                “Please kill me.”  A Duskwight elezen moaned into the floor next to him.

                “Can’t.  Dead-Eye would bring you back to life just so that he could kill you himself, and then get going on your dead body.”  Another elezen-a Wildwood-replied.  Reinhardt winced rolling over onto his back.

                “Does anyone even know what in the seven hells happened?”  He asked.

                “I do.”  A hand lifted from the floor, belonging to a blond Hyur.  “Well, I know some.  Graoully and his minions appeared out of nowhere, hitting the supply-points in Western Coerthas before making a turn for the city.”          

                “Wasn’t Ser Vimaroix putting together a hunt for him?”  Another squire asked.

                “She was, but she was waiting for the other senior dragoons to come back.”  The Duskwight said, rolling over onto his back.

                “Aye!  But considering the bastard just popped up, she didn’t have a choice but to respond.  And she pulled together a pretty solid team.  But…”  The other hyur trailed off, sombering.  “It was a trap.”

                “Brucemont’s getting First Lance.”  A female elezen said, sitting up.

                “Already got it, you mean.”  Came the correction from another squire.  “His old place’s open, along with the spots of the three who died.”  Reinhardt furrowed his brows, listening.

                “I heard that they’re shifting positions around and that they’re going to allow the highest-ranked squires out on the actual patrols with the partners of the dragoons that were injured until they’re back on their feet!”  Those words suddenly gave new life to the class, as the speaker suddenly found himself ambushed by his fellows.

                “Stop lying!”

                “I swear on the Fury’s spear and shield, it’s the truth!”

                “I’d fucking do a shit-string in my underwear if it got me a chance to go on an actual patrol.”  Another squire said, raw longing in his tone.  “I’d do it barefoot and with a dull pike.”  Reinhardt blinked in sudden surprise as a finger was pointed at him.

                “What the hells?”

                “You’re going to be one of them!”  Reinhardt snorted, sitting back down.

                “Pull the other one, why don’t you?”  He quipped.

                “You’re like one of the top squires in House Fortemps right now!”  The speaker, a petite brown-haired hyur said.  “And you were one of the few in the school class who survived Vishap!  Shite, you should have been in drachen-mail by now!”

                “Yeah well, let’s not go there.”  Reinhardt muttered, ducking his head.  His stomach twisted, memories of his expulsion from the dragoon-school were enough to make him feel ill.  Had it not been for the Colbalt Dragoon, he wouldn’t have had another chance to fulfill his dream.  For all their proclamations of following one of Halone’s core tenets-mercy, the Church and much of Ishgard wasn’t willing to show it to the families of anyone accused of heresy.

                “Do you think that…”  The sound of bells ringing shot the training room into immediate silence.  All the squires froze where they were, holding their breath.  It wasn’t the normal time for the bells to ring, which meant there was an emergency.  What type of emergency it was though, depended on the ringing pattern…

                _One-two, one-two, one-two…_   Reinhardt sucked in a sharp gasp of air as he recognized the pattern.  At the same time, the linkpearls of the squires exploded with noise.

                _All dragoon units report back to the Congregation!  I repeat, all dragoon units report back to the Congregation!  Abandon your strings and report back to the Congregation!  All squires report to your duty stations at once!  I repeat!  All dragoon units report back to the Congregation, all squires report to your duty stations! This is not a drill!  This is not a drill!_

                “Go, let’s go, let’s go!”  A voice broke into the collective stunned mindset of the squires, and suddenly the room was a flurry of activity as the squires hurried for the exit, Reinhardt among them.  The bells continued to ring, spreading the warning to all Ishgard, far faster than any messenger bird or mortal.  Nidhogg’s Horde had been sighted, and was heading straight for the holy city…


	6. Strategy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Azure Dragoon leaves on a mission with the Warrior of Light, the Knights-Dragoon must step up in Estinien's absence to defend the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Right. Notation time. First off, Skyfire Locks is listed as an evacuation haven for the people of Ishgard, and I've honestly never done the quests in that area-or the Machinist HW questline, so I admit my lore could be iffy on that part. But it's interesting that Skyfire never gets brought up given everything that happens.
> 
> Second: We don't get details on just what the Holy See's plan of defense was when Nidhogg initially started to gear up to attack Ishgard. But given the reactions of Estinien and Aymeric, I think it's reasonable to say that whatever it was, possibly could have resulted in the deaths of many Ishgardians. Given that we also witness Thordan VII and the Heavens' Ward fleeing during a time of upheaval in the city, I felt it was safe enough to possibly imply that the original defense plan could have also included them leaving Ishgard to it's fate and searching for the key to Azys Lla.
> 
> Third: Okay let's be frank. 3/4ths of the Heavens' Ward are assholes, another 1/4 seem to be sneaky pious bastards and the remaining amount...we'll let the jury decide. But I feel there's a possibility there in the lore for a little bit of possible bad blood between the Knights Dragoon and the Heaven's Ward, especially given the lore background for some of the members. 
> 
> Fourth: Also, who's not to say you can't be loyally passionate to the Church but still get your jump on as a dragoon?)

                Had the plan been admitted to any other quarter of Ishgard, it would have been called cowardly.  The city was in a frenzied state of panic following the news of Nidhogg’s Horde being sighted, a frenzy made worse by the loss of Daniffin’s Collar.  The entire city was now defenseless to whatever the Dravanians could bring to bear.  From their pulpits, the priests preached calm, while the military drew in upon itself, scrambling to come up with anything, anything that would offer a strong defense…

_“The Warrior of Light and her companions have a plan.  What it is, I dare not tell you all, for fear that it would draw attention from the wrong quarters.”  A ripple of sound broke out among the dragoons, but they fell silent as Estinien raised a hand._

_“I will be accompanying them with the Eye, and it should turn Nidhogg’s gaze from the city for a time.  That should buy more time to shore up the defenses.”  The Azure Dragoon paused, crossing his arms as he looked to each one of his fellows.  “If it works, we may gain an advantage over Nidhogg and his horde.”  He quieted then, watching as the dragoons murmured amongst themselves again, processing his words._

_“Whatever it is ser, it has to be better than the fucking idiotic plan that cocksucker Zephrim’s come up with.”  Stephan said into the silence, crossing his arms._

_“Aye.  I wish to die in honorable battle, but what the Ward is suggesting is a slaughter.”  Illaenne agreed._

_“Notice how they weren’t on the front lines in their strategy?”  A dragoon in red armor sneered._

_“Peace, all of you.”  Estinien ordered.  Some pro-Church members of the Order were bristling at the current topic, with Stephan being on the receiving end of several dark glowers._

_“Do you know how long this plan will take, ser?”  Brucemont asked.  Estinien shook his head, his ponytail waving._

_“I do not know.  But I will be in linkpearl contact with you, First Lance.  Should there be any changes to our enemy or if it works, you will be the first one notified.”_

 

_\---------------_

 

“I’m ordering an increase on the patrol-strings here.”  Brucemont said, marking ink marks on a large map of the Central Highlands.  “Hallienarte is working on getting Skyfire Locks ready to take in refugees, and as such they’re going to need protection around the clock.”   

                “What about the Western Highlands, ser?”  A junior dragoon asked.

                “The Archbishop’s issued a decree, all travel in the Western Highlands is to immediately cease.  As for us, I want the patrol strings…”  Brucemont gestured and his squire hurried up to put up a fresh map of the Western Highlands on the wall.  “Units keep to the Riversmeet and Warrens string, along with the Red Rim string.  The only one allowed to go further will be the search and rescue party for any merchants and travelers that may be still be out there.”

                “Round the clock duty as well?”  Kauchiox asked.

                “We don’t stop until we hear something from the Azure.”  Brucemont said.  “Also.  Drachen-mail trials are officially on hold.  Take notes of who’s stopped where, if anyone’s passed get them in their armor and onto the strings, we’ve no time for ceremonies.”  He paused for several moments, thinking.

 _Is that…no.  That’s not everything._   “Conscript the high-ranking squires into bodyguard duty for the supply-wagons for the Locks.  The Horde may send troops to harass them and they need to be covered.”  He said. 

                “What if we get orders from the Heavens’ Ward, First Lance?”

                “Ignore them.”  Brucemont said. “We have our orders from the Azure Dragoon-we are to help the city by keeping the Dravanians away from the defense-work for as long as we can.  Pray to the Fury that she favors him and the Warrior of Light in their mission.”

                “Aye First Lance!”  Brucemont was silent, considering his next words.

                “…For those of you who have families and children…”  He began.  “The Lord High Commander has asked me to pass onto you that they will be among the first to leave the city when the evacuation order is given.  Contact them now to have them begin preparing.”  He inhaled deeply.  “I wish I could give you the time to leave and handle their affairs…but I cannot.  I’m sorry.”  A heavy silence filled the meeting room, and Brucemont cleared his throat.

               “Dismissed!”  He barked.  As one, the Knights Dragoon snapped to attention and saluted, and then broke apart into their units, starting to discuss what needed to be done.  Brucemont turned his head towards the window, pressing his lips together. 

_Lady Fury, show us your mercy.  Grant us sinners a reprieve…_


	7. Stress (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Knights-Dragoon await word from Estinien and Ishgard struggles to pull together new defenses before Nidhogg's attack, the stress of waiting starts to manifest within the Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (notes at end of chapter, as this is a pet theorycraft of mine and explanation is LONG)

                No matter the country, waiting for the enemy’s next move was always a dangerous undertaking for any military.  And while the Knights Dragoon were trained to be patient, the stress of not knowing what their leader was up to, along with having their possible demise stare at them in the face along with the very real fear that they could fail in their sworn duty—protecting Ishgard’s people—it gnawed upon everyone’s mind. 

 

                The third day after Estinien’s departure, skirmishes were reported in the Central Highlands.  Groups of Horde scouts, much like how they had when Vishap had first came-appeared to attack the city’s defense preparations.  The fighting ended on the fifth day with victory for the Ishgardian defenders, though it came at a cost.  Deaths were reported in the House armies as well as the Temple Knights.  The Dragoons were hit as well, losing two squires and another three being rushed to the infirmary, along with a senior Dragoon.

 

                On the seventh day, more Horde scouts came.  The fighting ended with another victory for the defenders, though the body count rose once again.

 

                The eleventh day brought frayed nerves, as there was no sign of enemy activity.  But there were now replacement defenses for the city, in the form of remounted dragonkillers in strategic locations, and new protective shields for the most vulnerable areas.  While not as powerful as the original wards they at least would buy some time for those being protected within to come up with counterattacks should the enemy reach that far.

 

                The thirteenth day brought word of a row between Brucemont and Ser Zephrim…or rather, the First Lance graphically telling the Very Reverent Archimandrite the different ways he could engage in sexual congress with his sword (in rather lurid detail) when the latter attempted to reassign the Knights Dragoon.  Ser Aymeric was forced to step in and uphold Estinien’s commands (and if the rumors were true, physically drag an enraged Brucemont away).  But the damage was already done, as a rumor began to spread that Zephrim had been targeting the order for something, possibly a suicidal mission as a first-strike offensive against the gathering horde.

 

                And on the fourteenth day, things started to come to a head…

 

 

 

 

                “Ser Jienette!”  A squire burst into Illaenne’s room, her eyes wide.  “Come quick!”  Jolted out of a restless nap, Illaenne sat up in bed, pushing off the covers.

                “Is it an attack?!” 

                “No!  Ser Bellarose sent me to get you—Nightwind and Wrymheart are fighting!  He’s got them locked up in a training room-”

                “Does anyone else know?”  Illaenne barked, hastily pulling on a pair of pants beneath the oversized tunic she wore to sleep in.

                “No ma’am!”

                “Keep it that way!”  Illaenne made for the door, pausing only to make sure that her soulstone was secure against her skin.

                _Seven hells!  I know we were overdue but of all the times…_   She hurried down the hallway.  It wasn’t uncommon for fights to break out between members of the Order, in fact it was highly encouraged.  Dragoons on a whole were generally stubborn and extremely hard-headed, so it was a given that sometimes during disagreements, fists often would start flying.  Illaenne herself had been in her fair share of fights, ranging from dealing with a jealous co-worker to having to establish dominance over a group of first-year dragoons.  It was even rumored that Estinein and the now-deceased Heustienne had even engaged in their own no-holds-barred combat when the former had been chosen by the Eye.  As Ilaenne approached the training hall, she spotted a black-haired elezen man standing guard outside one of the rooms.

                “Lucian!”  At his name, the man turned to face her, revealing a heavily scarred face with a patch over his left eye.

                “Give them another couple of minutes.”  He said, not wincing as the sound of a body slamming into a wall was heard.  “I corralled them in here because they were flinging dragonfire at each other and acting a little too scaley for comfort.  Don’t need the Inquisition here.”

                “You sure.”  Illaenne asked.

                “Those two have been bouncing off each other’s nerves for the fortnight.”  Lucian rubbed the back of his neck.  “Might be that we’ll have a few more spats like this over the week’s end.”

                “Please don’t go picking fights.  Please.  Even if it’s in the name of keeping us sane.”  Illaenne said.  She looked at the door, the commotion having died down.  Lucian turned around, unlocking the door and cracking it open.

                “You two all made up now?”  He called.  The smell of dragonfire was heavy in the room, and it made Illaenne freeze for several moments.  A chill ran over her skin as memories suddenly swamped her, screams filling her ears…  Her soulstone pulsed, and Illaenne felt something electrical flick over her skin, helping ground her in the present.

                “You two jackarses are aware you’re fucking fixing my room, aye?”  Lucian snapped, unaware of Illaenne’s pause.  He strode inside.  “That includes you mopping up all your blood, Kauchiox!”

                “Oh, please just fuck off.”  The Dzemael dragoon groaned.  His face was swelling up to the point where it was hard to recognize him, and he spat two bloody teeth into a palm.  Not too far from him, face down on the floor, Matthiaos lifted a hand in a rude gesture to Lucian, who cackled and poked him with a foot.

                “…I see we need to start letting off some steam.”  Brucemont’s voice had Illaenne and Lucian spinning around and snapping to attention. 

                “Ser!”  The First Lance quirked an eyebrow as he peered into the room.  From the floor, Kauchiox offered a half-hearted salute, while Matthiaos just waved.

                “Dead-Eye, make sure these two end up with Bishop as their healer, aye?”  Groans came from the duo, and a positively evil smile crossed Lucian’s face.  “We can afford to be down a pair of idiots for a day or two.”  The words caught the dragoons’ attention, and Illaenne was the first to speak.

                “First Lance?”  She asked, anticipation suddenly twisting her stomach.  Hope was beginning to bloom, had there…  Brucemont looked at her, nodding.

                “He’s made contact.”  He said.  “He and the Warrior of Light have passed though Sohm Al, and are heading into Dravania proper.”  An exhausted smile spread over Brucemont’s features.  “They fought and defeated Tioman.”

                “Nidhogg’s consort?!”  Kauchiox exclaimed, pain forgotten. 

                “Aye.  The Horde are in chaos now that their master’s suffered this blow, and so we have a reprieve.  Expect a new schedule to come out in several bells.  All of us need to rest and regain our wits.”  Brucemont glanced at Kauchiox and Matthiaos.  “Some of us more than others, it seems.”

                “He started it.”  Matthiaos said, pointing a finger toward Kauchiox, who scoffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So I went a little bit more out on a theorycraft limb, this chapter has something I've been personally nursing for a while. The DRG questline in both ARR and HW heavily emphasize gaining control of and using the 'dragon within/inner dragon' as a source of power, and with the Ishgardian revelation on the dragonblood curse, I felt that brings up a few interesting points for the Knights Dragoon possibly acting much like how an actual dragonflight would behave in some cases. 
> 
>  
> 
> While it can be argued that the Ishgardian dragoncurse doesn't extend to -all- of the city's inhabitants, as you progress though HW and into/through SB, references are made to the (I saw this used on the wiki and I feel it's a good way to reference them) 'proto'-Ishgardian knights aiding the dragons, flying on dragonback. Add in that the two races used to live together in harmony, and in a lot of fantasy these days, dragon-blood is considered an extremely valuable reagent--I feel there's a very real possibility that there could be far more people who could have dragon-blood in their veins or are descendants of those who had as such, and the power is still there, thus leading to the 'dragon within/inner dragon' if given the right triggering circumstances.
> 
> There is also the possibility that the Knights-Dragoon themselves could have perhaps ingested blood as part of an initiation ritual into the Order, or maybe a few do to help enhance their powers, or dragon-blood could have got in via an open wound or sprayed onto one's lips or mouth during combat...it's all very ambiguous, I feel. Or perhaps it's an aetherical reaction from wearing the dragon-infused armor for great lengths of time. I could be quite wrong, but given how strongly the ARR/HW job questlines focus on this particular aspect (and to a degree, Stormblood), I think it's worth a look at.
> 
> Two final notes: As a bit more evidence for above, the DRG's ingame LB3, Dragonsong Dive. In the final SB job quest, you're able to get a much better view of the actual attack, and your character seems to -physically vanish-, only to reappear during the landing (in comparison to the other LB3 attacks) I take that to assume the DRG and the dragon called upon merge as one for those brief seconds. There's also Mirage Dive, which can also be implied as the dragoon's inner dragon separating from it's wielder for an attack of it's own.
> 
> Lastly. While I know actual infighting is frowned heavily upon in the military, in the course of my research I came across a FB video and subsequent comment thread that suggests that some decades back, it was actually promoted within the ranks that if two soldiers had a problem with each other, they simply fought it out and made up afterwards. To me it sounded like what would probably be the norm for the Knights Dragoon if there were two dragoons who couldn't resolve their issues though talk, and so I decided to run with the idea.)


	8. Sex (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Order finds a moment of respite in the wake of Tioman's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Just a theorycraft idea here and there in this one, nothing major. 'Battle-mind': my take on how the Eorzeans would describe PSTD.)

                “So, come on, Laurent.”  Stephan coaxed, waggling his fingers at another dragoon.  “Details, you promised.”  The following week had brought a respite for Ishgard and the Knights-Dragoon, with only one half-hearted skirmish coming from Horde scouts in the Western Highlands.

                “There’s not much.  If he wants to marry her, they have to do it outside of the city.”  The House Fortemps dragoon said, wincing as he moved to pick up a cleaning cloth.  “So, they’re planning to do that.”

                “Smart man.”  An older dragoon in teal-colored armor said, he was busily cleaning his Gale Bog.  “Though…wait.  Where are they getting married?”

                “Next moon in Ul'dah. If he can bring in legal papers from there proving they’re wed, the Church has no choice but to accept her as his wife.”

                “I’ve seen her around.  Cute little thing.”  Coldfire said, starting to unstrap his armor.  “For fuck’s sake, keep him and her clear of Callix though.  He is a walking mess.”            

                “Still?”  Stephen asked.

                “Aye.  At the rate he’s going he’s this close to getting taken off duty.”  Coldfire said, gesturing with his index finger and thumb. 

                “Technically if Pendragon wants to be very smart and if that woman is truly keen on having him, he’d marry her and get her pregnant.”  The dragoon with the teal armor mused.  “Ring on her finger and a baby in her belly, the See’s got no choice then but to validate the marriage.”  

                “His House does have no heirs…”  Laurent mused.   “And he’s not the only vassal House that’s lacking them.  There are some others as well.”

                “Durendaire’s going to lose one.”  Stephan said softly.  “Marcus Chaput?  One of those who died with Heustienne?  He was the last of his line.”  The other dragoons exclaimed softly, some making holy gestures with their hands. 

                “I thought he and his wife…”  Coldfire whispered.

                “They’d been trying, but…”  Stephan shook his head.  “The miscarriages.  It possibly broke something inside her.”  He exhaled. “So, she’s a widow now, and not a wealthy one.  Chaput was hoping he could restore the family fortunes by serving.”

                “One of Illeanne’s unit lost her brother in the attack near Skyfire Locks.  She’s the only child left of the family now, and her father’s starting to put pressure on her to quit and marry.  Speaking of which…”  Laurent looked around.  “Where is she?”

                “Sleeping.  She just got her few days off.”  Stephan said.  He muffled a yawn.  “Which is what I plan on doing after this…”

 

\----------------

 

                Illaenne sank into the mattress, feeling a pleasant lassitude take over her body.  Atop her, Matthiaos chuckled, bending his head to nuzzle at her neck.

                “Finally satisfied?”

                “I’m five and twenty and not a spring chicken anymore. What do you want from me?”  Illeanne replied. 

                “Could have fooled me.”  Matthiaos said.  Pulling away, he moved to settle on his side and pulled the female elezen in to spoon.  “Seriously though.”  He lifted a hand to push a damp lock of hair from Illaenne’s forehead.  “What’s wrong?  I could feel the tension in your body when we first got here.”  Illaenne was quiet for several moments, absorbing the comfort of Matthiaos’s body.

                “…I’m tired.”  She finally said, breaking the silence.  “And yes-I know we’re all tired, but this is…tired tired.  Seven years I’ve done this.  This is the tired from too much fighting, from my battle-mind, from…”  She sighed.  “Everything.”

                “Has it been bad for you?”  Matthiaos asked, worried.  Battle-mind was something not taken lightly.  Every dragoon had it to varying degrees, but it only grew worse as their years of service advanced.

                “A little bit.”  Illaenne confessed.  “I know it’s the stress of the situation we’re in now, but at the same time…”  She closed her eyes as Matthiaos rested a hand on her spine, gently moving it up and down.  “If we somehow hold off or defeat Nidhogg and his Horde, I may probably give up my spear.  I know it’s five years too early, but I…I don’t think I have that much left in me to give.  I want to get out with what I still have of myself.”  She opened her eyes, looking up at the ceiling.

                “When did you get your drachen mail?” Matthiaos asked.

                “Eighteen.”  Ilaenne said, turning her head to look at him.  “You?”

                “Seventeen.” 

                “Only a year off.”  The female elezen murmured.              

                “A year off and a lot of shite I had to wade through.”  Matthiaos said.  “The Order’s the first real group of people who accept me as one of their own and not look down on me because I’m a half-breed.”  He continued rubbing Illaenne’s back.  The female elezen sighed.

                “I should get up and leave…but I don’t want to.”

                “So, don’t.  We’re both smart, we made sure we weren’t followed.”  Matthiaos’ voice dropped by several octaves, a sound that made Illaenne want to curl her toes.  Matthiaos was certainly no Ser Aymeric when it came to his voice, but it still was very pleasing to a partner’s ears.  In fact, their arrangement was pleasing overall…if the unwritten rule that it was a bad idea for dragoons to fraternize in any other way other than platonic friendship was ignored.  Though like so many decrees in the Order, it was ignored (and in some cases) rolled up, stabbed, and then set alight with dragonfire.

                “I should.  You know how we talk.”  Illaenne made a half-hearted attempt to get up, only to cave into the sudden strength of Matthiaos’ arms around her, adding even more weight to the temptation to just close her eyes and drift off.

                “Nobody knows.  Besides, they’re too busy gossiping about Pendagon and a few others.”  He said.  “So, we are completely unnoticeable.”  Illaenne sighed. 

                “Wake me in a few bells then?”  She mumbled.  Matthiaos smiled and pulled her closer.

                “A few bells.” He agreed.


	9. Fracture (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Estinien and the Warrior of Light return to the city, and the preparations to take the fight to Nidhogg begin. But at the same time, the truth of the Dragonsong War starts to make itself known to the Order...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Right. This was a difficult chapter for me, I don't feel very confident in it, but here it is! Please forgive the creative liberties I took. *bow*
> 
> Also the questline I reference is the infamous level 56 line that involves the Knights Dragoon in the Churning Mists. While it does take place after Nidhogg's defeat, I feel that with the rather explosive revelations of Hraesvelgr that there could be the real possibility that Estinien could have passed on what he would have learned to a trusted second when he first returned to the city, along with perhaps ordering a secret mission into Dravania for information.
> 
> Also, it's confirmed lore that House Dzemael primarily are Ishgard's stonecutters and carvers.)

                Another fortnight passed and then as suddenly as they had left, the Warrior of Light and Estinien returned to the city.  With the return of their leader and the subsequent silence from the Horde, the Order’s spirits were generally lifted, and a grateful Brucemont was only too happy to hand back over the reins of command.  But the peace didn’t last for long, as explosive news began to circulate through the Knights Dragoon…

 

\--------

 

                “Gods be good.”  Matthiaos muttered.  Stephan was shaking his head, Illaenne had a worried expression on her face, and Kauchiox had his arms crossed.  They were in Brucemont’s office, awaiting the First Lance’s arrival. 

                “Is it that surprising?  It was a given at some point.”  The Dzemael dragoon said.  “All we can do is pray and hope he’s able to put the bastard down or hurt him enough to make him go into slumber again.  Though with the Warrior of Light at his side…”  The quartet fell silent, each one trying to imagine Nidhogg’s death and what it would mean for the city.

                “…Do you know, I never really thought…”  Illaenne quieted as Brucemont suddenly entered, and she and the other House representatives came to attention.  “First Lance!”

                “At ease, at ease.”  With a sigh, Brucemont dropped heavily into his seat, setting a wrapped item down on his desk.  “And all of you, sit.  Halone knows you’re going to need to.”  The four dragoons blinked at each other, and then looked at Brucemont.

                “…Ser?”  Stephan ventured.  With a sigh, Brucemont leaned forward, lacing his fingers together.  He looked at each dragoon in turn, his face grim.

                “I just came from a meeting with the Azure.”  He said.  “During it, he made me privy to the reason why he and the Warrior of Light left the city…and of what they encountered in Dravania.  I called the four of you together because…”  The blue-haired elezen paused. 

                “Because what, ser?”  Illaenne asked.  Brucemont pressed his lips together.

                “To begin with, the Warrior of Light and the Azure traveled in the company of Lady Iceheart…”  Slowly Brucemont broke the tale of Estinien’s travels, and Hraesvelgr’s story of his brood sister’s murder and the apparent treachery of King Thordan.  Stephan and the others listened in dumbfounded shock, both Illaenne and Kauchiox following Brucemont’s order to sit when their legs threatened to give way.  Matthiaos stared wordlessly at the First Lance, skin pale.

                “Can…can this be believed?”  He whispered.  In response, Brucemont picked up the small bundle from his desk, unwrapping it.  A piece of crumbling masonry came into view, and he held it out towards Kauchiox.

                “The Azure took this as proof of what he witnessed.  However, you being…”  He trailed off, and then continued.  “He says you would be able to authenticate this.”  The Duskwight took the masonry, turning it over in his hands.

                “…This is Dzemael stonework.”  He whispered.  “The patterns and style-it’s an outdated method of carving, but this was done by a member of the House.”

                “You’re sure?”  Brucemont asked.

                “I’d…I’d have to find someone to test it, but I remember my lessons from the stonecutters’ workshop.”  Kauchiox said.  He turned the masonry over in his hands. 

                “Ser, if this is true, then it means…”

                “It means everything over the past thousand years has been a lie.”  Stephan said, his voice shaking.  “The Church, the war…all of it…”

                “What’s not a lie right now is the fact that we still have a duty to protect the city’s inhabitants.”  Brucemont said quickly. 

                “Why tell us?” Matthiaos blurted out.  Brucemont took a deep breath.

                “Because he wishes you to pick…”  He paused.  “The more ‘open-minded’ of us for an assignment.  He wishes a unit to head into Dravania to reconnoiter.  Obviously if this is going to be done, that means they will encounter things that are…contrary to the Church’s teachings.”

                “You must not think I’m very pious if you’re actually discussing this in front of me!”  Kauchiox said with a bitter laugh.  Brucemont gave him a wry smile.

                “If it helps any, I’m struggling with this too.”  He said.  “You and I both know how well this would go over in our House if it were made public.”

                “Like a goddsdamn lead balloon.”

                “Is there any danger of this getting out?”  Illaenne asked, sucking in a quick breath.

                “As of right now, you’re the only ones other than the Warrior of Light, her companion, the Azure and myself.”  Brucemont said.  “I wanted to keep this from you for a while, to break it slowly…but…”  He exhales.  “Not with preparations to take the battle right to Nidhogg at his haven.”  Matthiaos put his head in his hands, exhaling heavily.

                “I’m also assuming that he wants to set up patrol-strings in Dravania as well?”  He asked.

                “That would be an idea, yes.”  Brucemont inhaled, looking at each dragoon in turn.  He could see the shock and horror in their eyes, and he could relate.  Fault lines had now appeared in what was once stable ground, and if he was completely honest…

                _We’re Halone’s favored sinners.  Our power is classified as heresy, and for all we know, the Church only lets us live for what we’re able to do for the people.  If they ever had the mind to get rid of us, we wouldn’t even stand a chance…_

                “The Azure has told me that if any of you have questions…that his time is yours.”  The dragoons looked at him.  “And also…that this information, whatever he tells you…however we feel…our duty is the same.  That has not changed.”  Was it his imagination, or did he see flickers of relief on their faces?  “The safety of Ishgard’s people is our first and foremost priority.  Even if the Church itself were to come to us and demand otherwise, even if Halone were to come and bring punishment down upon us- _we stand firm._   Our spears, our lives are for those who cannot _fight_.”  He looked to Kauchiox, who nodded.

                “Death before dishonor.”  He said softly.

                “Death before dishonor.”  Stephan echoed.

                “Death before dishonor.”  Illaenne and Matthiaos repeated.  Brucemont nodded.

                “I would suggest you meet with the Azure first.”  He said.  “Take a day, process everything.  Then go though the men.  Pick those who have open minds and tight lips.  Kauchiox, can you ensure that stonework’s kept silent?”

                “I know who to go to.  There won’t be a single wark.”  Kauchiox said. 

                “Are you wanting them to bring anything back?” Stephan asked.  “Or look for anything in particular?”

                “The Azure could tell you better than I.”  Brucemont said. 

                “Does the Lord High Commander know of this?”  Illaenne asked.

                “Not yet.  This is Knight-Dragoon business first.  At some point it’s going to get to the Church, but before that happens…”        

                “Best to be prepared.”  Matthiaos said.  Brucemont nodded.


	10. Squires (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the squires among the Knights Dragoon are not immune to bribery and scandal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Small chapter this time with a few theories of note. Given the wealth of Ishgard's merchants and upper class, it wouldn't be too farfetched to believe that there has been a parent or two who tried to buy their child a path into the Knights Dragoon. There's also the idea of inter-House rivalry possibly coming into play, along with the notion that not even the Order itself could be immune to possible corruption, and then finally actions that could be taken to deal with a cowardly member (abit a lesser one).

                There was no announcement, no fanfare.  The Warrior of Light had left the city, apparently having business in Ul’dah.  But when she returned she and the Azure Dragoon were seen heading for the Skysteel docks, and then they were gone.  Rumor had it that with Tioman gone, the Azure Dragoon had asked the Warrior of Light for her help…surely with her power and the Eye, perhaps finally, finally, the dread wrym could be laid low. 

 

                Attempts had been made to restore normalcy in the Order even before Estinien had returned the first time.  Primarily there were squires who still needed training, though with the current state of the city the trainers were seeing first-hand on who could possibly make the cut and who wouldn’t.  Drachen-mail trials had resumed, and thanks to two hurried resupply runs the smithies of the Knights Dragoon could resume making the needed new sets of armor and carrying out repairs.   

 

                But as if by some strange law or maybe one of the other gods wanting to cause trouble, word of a new situation started to make the rounds of the Order...

 

\-------------------------

 

                “Austrert’s armor is up for grabs.”  The proclamation had every squire’s head turning.  “They’re kicking him out the building right now and blacklisting him not only from the Order, but the Temple Knights as well.”

                “What?!”  Reinhardt looked over, a bread roll in his mouth.

                “He didn’t listen to Frostwhisper’s orders about the wind-currents in the Central Highlands right now.  They’re shite because the Ixal summoned Garuda.  Frostwhisper said the squires were to stay grounded because only the dragoons can handle the winds when they’re like that, but Austrert didn’t listen.  He dragged his partner along, and then the two of them got caught up in a windstorm that came out of Natalan.  Then when his partner got hurt, Austrert left him behind instead of helping.”  Gasps of shock came from around the table.

                “What the seven hells?  Didn’t he think it wasn’t going to be noticed that he didn’t come back with his string-partner?”  Another squire exclaimed.

                “He went to one of the House Durendaire dragoons and asked if they could cover it up.  Told him that a House Hallienarte member was only good for one thing, and that was cannon fodder.  Apparently told the Durendaire dragoon that if he helped, he’d see about them getting ennobled.”

                “What…the fuck.”  Reinhardt’s string partner, a Duskwight elezen with dark brown hair said. 

                “What the hells did he think this place was?  The Scholasticate?”  A highlander hyur said, his hair shaved close to his scalp and tattoos all over his skin. 

                “He’s lucky he’s only getting kicked out and blacklisted.  House wars have started over less.”  Reinhardt said darkly, having taken a bite out of his bread roll.  He reached for the butter, and a silence fell over the dining-hall table. 

                “…I’m glad he’s gone.”  A small hyuran trainee said, breaking the silence.  Next to her, her string-partner nodded.  “I got a bad feeling from him—he was in my class briefly at the school.”

                “He liked killing shite way too much.”  Her partner added.  “And whenever he got in trouble-which was a lot, his father would come in and just pay everyone off with gil to stay silent and keep him in.”

                “What the seven hells?  Did he honestly think that shite was going fly if his son made it that far?”  Reinhardt’s partner exclaimed.  The two women shrugged.  Reinhardt wisely took another bite out of his bun, his teacher’s words flicking briefly though his mind.

                _The school is taught by Temple Knights who were dragoon want-to-bes that washed out.  The basics of what you need to know they’ll teach, but for anything else in our duty, they are no good._

                “I heard the First Lance’s wanting to order an investigation, just the problem is that everyone’s so busy preparing for the Horde attack.”

                “You two are like the only ones left from the school now that he’s gone.  Which is good, but also surprising?  I don’t think the trainers were expecting anyone from there to make it this far…”  Chuckles came from the two women.

                “We’re both stubborn and trained as hard as we could, even in our free-time.”

                “We were hoping that maybe we’d get noticed and chosen by a senior dragoon to become their squire, but alas…” 

                “No, they’re fucking picky as shite.”  The conversation started to turn from the possibly-now exiled Austret towards discussion of several senior dragoons and their personalities.  Reinhardt continued eating his food, listening in with one ear while he mulled over his teacher’s words and his own time at the school.  His own experience had boiled down to him just surviving every day, having to continually train to be the stronger, faster, and sometimes cleverer of his group.  Reinhardt also had to deal with having his family’s shame constantly thrown in his face and being used by the teachers to keep him from advancing.  It was a well-known fact among the students there that the school had problems, and something needed to be done…           

_But it’s not as if they can spare actual dragoons to do the teaching.  It’s hard enough to get them to stay as it is once they retire._


	11. Fracture (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An uneasy pall hangs over the city and over the Knights Dragoon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So this chapter and the next are a little tricky for me terms of theorycraft. It always seemed entirely too quick that Ishgard came under attack by the heretics shortly after Nidhogg's defeat, and while they do give an in-game explanation, I personally felt that the timing and structure could have been better laid out. The impression I was given in that questline when the WoL and Estinien return to the city is that Ishgard was in a deadlock with the heretics inside their gates. It felt off kilter to me, considering that the bulk of the military is in Ishgard itself and could have very easily mobilized to crush Shiva's forces. So I decided to offer a reason that could possibly explain how the scene felt, which is that possibly up until the gates were opened, the Temple Knight forces found themselves stretched thin and overworked by trouble cropping up all over the city. If this went on long enough, by the time Shiva's people invaded the city, the superior Temple Knights would be tired and overwhelmed in comparison to the possibly more-rested heretics.)

                An explosion of sound from a linkpearl made the dragoon look over.  His partner was growling in irritation, removing his helm and lifting a hand to his right ear.

                “Sorry, sorry.”  He removed the linkpearl.  “I’ve been listening to the Temple Knight chatter.  Buggers have had their hands full for the past sennight.”

                “Everyone’s had their hands full over the past sennight.  Hells, over the past fucking moon and a half.”  The second dragoon pulled his helm back on.

                “Aye, but something feels a bit off.  It’s been gnawing at me, so I thought listening in would provide some clues.” 

                “What the fuck did I tell you about fucking playing Inquisitor?”

                “Aye, aye.  It’s in my blood!  I can’t help it.”

 

\-------------

 

                Brucemont squinted at the paper.  Then he sighed in exasperation.

                “Will somebody please find Matthiaos and stab him?  Or even better, tell the squires that the first one who kills him gets his armor.  They’re young and hungry enough, surely one of them can beat him.”

                “Sir?”  The clerk asked. As if by magic, Matthiaos stuck his head though the door.

                “First Lance?  Do you have a…”  He trailed off at the look on Brucemont’s face, moving aside as the clerk quickly bowed and headed though the door at a gesture from the blue-haired elezen.  “What is it?”

                “Prostitutes and liquor are _**not**_ an acceptable expense request.  Do you want the Inquisition to come after us?”

                “It’s for Pendragon’s stag party!  We need to make sure it’s done properly this time!”  Matthiaos protested.  Then he blinked as a linkpearl on Brucemont’s desk went off.  The First Lance blinked, picking it up and holding it to his ear.  “Ser?”

                “Temple Knight pearl.”  Brucemont said.  “I know the city’s a mess, but they seem to have their hands even more full than normal for a situation like this.”

                “You too?”  Brucemont blinked, looking at Matthiaos, who had crossed his arms.  “Two of the Fortemps dragoons are playing amateur Inquisitor.   They’re saying that the Temple Knights have been responding more and more to random disturbances of the peace around the city.”

                “What kind of disturbances?”

                “Fighting, vandalism…”  Brucemont set down the pearl, listening. “The culprits seem to be mostly commonfolk from the Brume, but that doesn’t sound right.  Sure there’s a few rowdy ones here and there, but then it’s the merchants and a few spoiled brats from the nobility that cause trouble too.”

                “I sense another possible story about Count Edmont’s youngest.”  Brucemonet said wryly.

                “Surprisingly, he’s just been keeping to the taverns and out of trouble, praise Halone.”  Matthiaos said.  Brucemont tapped his fingers, thinking.

                “…Amateur Inquisitor, huh?”  He mused.  “Though there’s one factor you didn’t mention that’s surprising.  No word of any outsiders causing trouble.”

                “The minute it got to the public that Nidhogg was gathering his Horde, many them packed up and fled.  The only ones still around are adventurers willing to fight for some coin, but they’re generally under our House.”  Matthiaos answered.  “And we have pretty tight rules regarding their behavior.”   Brucemont nodded, a thoughtful look coming over his features.

                “…They should be at the Aery about now.”  He said softly.  Matthiaos exhaled, looking towards the office window.

                “…The winds feel strange, First Lance.”  Brucemont started at the sudden formality.  “And not because of the Horde.  Our dragons feel troubled, agitated.  There is danger…somewhere, but nobody can put a finger on it.”   The blue-haired elezen was silent for several moments, and then sighed.

                “You’re not the only one.”  He said.  Matthiaos looked up as Brucemont pushed himself up from the desk, striding over to a map of the city.  “I pulled on the one string I have in my House to find out about the initial defense plan the Holy See had.”  He closed his eyes.  “When they return, I need to speak to Estinien.”  Matthiaos started.

                “The rumors.  Were they…”

                “I need to speak to the Azure.”  Brucemont said.  He opened his eyes, and exhaled.  “In the meanwhile, see if we can’t spare one of the nosier…”  The dragoon linkpearl came to life in a torrent of sound.

                _City units respond, dragoon down!  I repeat, city units respond, dragoon down!_   Brucemont and Matthiaos froze, their eyes widening. _City units respond and report in to the Congregation on the double!  Medical unit to the Arc of the Worthy!  I repeat city units respond and report in to the Congregation, medical unit to the Arc of the Worthy!_


	12. Fracture (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too late the Order finds that it's walked right into a trap, just as the Dravanian heretics invade the city...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Continuation of the theorycraft from the previous chapter. As it's confirmed that the Heavens' Ward was responsible for opening the gates and allowing Shiva's people in, I thought also that it was strange that there's possibly no mention of the Dragoons in the situation. Surely one of them would have noticed what was going on with the gates, thus the scenario laid out in this chapter.0

                The mood in the Knight-Dragoon area of the Congregation was grim.  Two dragoons had been attacked while on their patrol-string within the city, and the perpetrator/perpetrators were nowhere to be found.  The rest of the city-stationed dragoons were grounded pending a judgement on whether their safety could be assured...

 

\----------------------

 

                A black-haired hyuran man in blood-stained medical robes limped out of a room.  Wiping his hands on a towel, he nodded to Brucemont, Kauchiox and Matthiaos.

                “She’ll live.”  He said.  The First Lance and the other two dragoons collectively sagged in relief.  “But she’ll have to be on the inactive roster for a while.  It’ll take her two moons to fully recover the blow damn near split her in two from the shoulder.  Halone had to be watching over her, it’s a miracle that it didn’t go near her spine.”

                “Blow?”  Brucemont repeated.

                “From a greataxe I suspect.  Or a greatsword.”  The healer frowned.  “Aetherically empowered as well, considering it sliced though her drachen mail like paper.”

                “ _Halone_.”  Kauchiox hissed.

                “What about Celeste, Bishop?”  Matthiaos asked.

                “Bone bruising, cracked ribs, and a broken shoulder.  She should still be awake.”

                “Matthiaos, go and update the Lord High Commander.”  Brucemont ordered.  “Kauchiox, update everyone else.  Tell them Arlette will live.”  He exhaled gustily.  “That should at least drop the tension level by a few degrees….”

                “Do we resume patrols?”  The Duskwight asked.  Brucemont considered the question, working his jaw in thought.

                “…After I speak with Celeste and the Lord High Commander, I’ll make a decision.”  He said.

 

 

                Illaenne gently wiped the other woman’s face with a cool cloth. 

                “Tell the First Lance what you just told me.”  She said soothingly.  Celeste looked up at Brucemont, her eyes puffy and bloodshot.  Her left shoulder was bandaged, and she was propped up against a mountain of pillows.  More bandages could be spotted beneath the healer’s gown she was dressed in.

                “We were coming up from the Old City.”  She began, voice cracking.  “Landed on Haldrath’s Way, and that’s when we felt it.”

                “It?” Brucemont repeated.

                “Something aetherical.  Powerful.  It was enough to make our dragons react.”  Celeste whispered. “At first, we thought the Warrior of Light had returned, but then we realized it wasn’t her.  She…she has wind-aether around her.  Whatever it was, it didn’t have wind-aether.”  The elezen woman swallowed.  “It was coming from the Arc, so we went to investigate.  The fog was coming in, and we didn’t see any sign of the Temple Knights.” 

                “They weren’t at their posts?”  Brucemont asked. 

                “No.  But then that wasn’t strange.  Before we dropped down into the Old City, we’d seen some of them rushing to deal with disturbances in the Brume.”  Celeste winced, and Illaenne moved to adjust a pillow.  “With everything that’s happened recently, we suspected the same thing had happened.  Arlette wanted to check and see if there was anyone on the Western Highlands side, so she went ahead.  I called to her, she stopped and turned around, and…” 

                “And?”  The First Lance prodded gently.  Celeste swallowed, trying to keep her composure but she was starting to shake, pressing a fist to her mouth.  Illaenne was quick to move, picking up a small vial of silver liquid.

                “Celeste, drink this.”  She ordered.  Brucemont started in surprise.           

                “Illeanne!”  Celeste had shakily taken the vial and downed its contents, closing her eyes with a whimper.  Illeanne looked back to Brucemont as she reclaimed the now-empty vial from the other elezen woman, standing and going over to him.

                “Sedative.”  She said softly.  “Trust me, she’s better than how she was.”  The drug was starting to take effect, as Celeste’s shuddering was beginning to subside. 

                “I…I remember red armor.”  She murmured.  “Red armor on a tall figure.  About the size of a statue.  It swung something large at me, and it felt like the ground was hitting me.  I went flying back….”

                “Did you see anything else?”  Brucemont urged.

                “…The helm.”  Celeste whispered.  “It looked…like it had a halo on it.”  Her eyes lifted to Brucemont’s own.  “Ar-Arlette.  Is she…?”  When the First Lance shook his head, Celeste broke down into tears of relief.

 

\----------------------

 

                “Her calling to Arlette like that probably saved her life.”  Brucemont said lowly as he and Illaenne left Celeste’s sickroom.  “Bishop said the blow almost split her torso in half.  She turned around, maybe started to take a step forward, and it changed the angle that her attacker was aiming at.”

                “A heretic, you think?”  Illaenne asked. 

                “Normally I’d say yes but our armor more can withstand their hits even when they transform.”  Brucemont replied.  “Not to mention it was a weapon that was used.  The heretics transform, they use aether, claw, bite, wing…what hurt them was a weapon.”  Illaenne frowned, biting her lower lip.  Then her eyes widened.

                “…They said it felt like the Warrior of Light, but it didn’t, because she practices Allagan summoning-and she has the powers of Garuda.  We all can pick up on that, Ser Wrymblood showed us how to identify her aether were we to encounter her on patrols.”  She said.  “But could it be one of the other people who follow her?  What do they call them? Companions?  They aid her in fights?  Maybe there’s a traitor among them?”

                “Doubtful.”  Brucemont said. _Size of a statue…with a halo on the helm?  With a large weapon, possibly a greataxe or a greatsword…why does that seem familiar to me?_ Next to him, Illeanne glanced out of the window.  She frowned and stopped.

                “What’s that?”  She asked.  Brucemont jerked to a stop, stepping back and peering out as well.  Night had fallen over Ishgard, and just below he could see a bit of flame, somebody walking around with a…

                “Hit the floor!”  Both dragoons threw themselves down towards the stone tiles-just as a flaming ball of pitch came flying though the window right where they were standing.  At the same time distant explosions were heard, and the dragoon linkpearl screamed back to life.

                _Explosion in the central training yard!  Armed forces are breaking into the main area of the Congregation and are heading this way!  All dragoons get in the air!  I repeat! Explosion in the central training yard, armed forces are breaking into the main area of the Congregation!  All dragoons get in the air immediately!_

                “Are you okay?!”  Brucemont scrambled to check over Illeanne, who was pushing herself up and shaking embers off her.

                “I’m fine, I’m fine-watch out!”  She pointed towards the fireball, which had landed near a tapestry.  Brucemont reacted by summoning a ray of frost, aiming it at the sphere and dowsing it.

                “Report!”  He barked into the linkpearl.  “This is the First Lance!  What’s going on?!”

                _Ser, we’re under attack!  Enemies have broken into the Temple Knight area of the Congregation and are setting it ablaze!  It’s…_ There was a pause.  _Ser, it’s the heretics! They have an army!_   Brucemont’s blood ran cold, and he and Illeanne stared at each other in horror.

                “How did they get inside?!”  Illaenne cried.

                _Reports are saying the gates were left open for them!_   Brucemont’s blood ran cold as the events of the past several hours-no, the past several weeks suddenly clicked into place.  When it came to the Arc of the Worthy, the patrolling Knights Dragoon served as a second pair of eyes to watch the gate.  But if the Temple Knights had been distracted, and the on-duty Dragoons removed…say by an attack on them, which would result in the current roster of city-patrols being grounded…

                “ ** _Get me the Lord High Commander now!”_**  

 

               


	13. Countdown (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they fight to save Ishgard from Iceheart's army, the Knights Dragoon learn of Nidhogg's defeat...and welcome the now-ticking time-bomb that is Estinien Wrymblood back into their midst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Continuing from before. I mentioned the Old City in a previous chapter-it's how I think Ishgardians would possibly refer to the lower section of the city that's below the Brume/Steps of Faith and can be seen in artwork/ingame. Many old cities IRL have large underground areas that were inhabitable, and it stands to reason that Ishgard could be the same. There are also one or two areas blocked off in the Brume that seemingly lead downwards, sooo...
> 
> I also figured how technically in-game, this is how the attack on the city could have been still going on by the time the WoL/Ysyale/Estinien make it back to Ishgard. Even with the manacutters, it still would take a day/two days at minimum to make it back, unless Estinien and the WoL decided to teleport (which then begged the problem of Ysayle). I figured it wasn't far out of the realm of reason to suggest that the heretics could have made use of a possible system of passages that are within the city itself-ones that probably not even the Temple Knights/High Houses knew about and therefore could not offer a good defense. 
> 
> Last but not least...inner dragons and Estinien. This is a theorycraft I'm going to continue to slowly expand upon over the next couple of chapters, but I feel that it should be noted that even Estinien notes that he needs to get his armor reforged due to Nidhogg's rancor. Given how drachen armor is created, I would feel that the entire Knights Dragoon would be aware of just what Estinien would be wearing-and react accordingly.)

                The fighting continued all night, the next day, and into the morning after.  The heretics were employing hit-and-run tactics, going after certain areas of the city and engaging the worn-out Temple Knights before retreating.   As the lower regions of the city were filled with dozens of hiding places for any number of bodies to go to, the city defenders found themselves hard pressed.  Even the High Houses found that they were having trouble-their own personal armies also having been worn out in helping the Temple Knights.  The only relative bastion of relief were the Church buildings, though it was anyone’s guess when trouble would possibly crop up there.

 

                The Knights Dragoon found that they could only do so much themselves.  Heretic attacks were launched at certain locations where they would normally patrol—and being relatively fresh, units would find themselves aiding Temple Knights in battle.  More often than not however, the dragoons found themselves turning into rescuers…

 

\-----------------

 

_Coldfire and Frostwhisper are coming in with two more injured!_

                “Godsdamnit—reroute them!”  Brucemont snapped, landing hard on a snowy ledge.  It was late afternoon, and he was out on reconnaissance.  He straightened, hand to his right ear.  “If you’re carrying wounded, do not go to the Congregation! They’re at full capacity!  Get them over to Skysteel, they opened up one of their warehouses-”

_Skysteel can’t take any more!  They’re stuffed with civilians-_

_Durendaire’s Marshal says they can take another fifty bodies before they’re overwhelmed, swing up there if you can!_

_Where the hell are they all coming from?! This is the same group that attacked the Croizer a bell ago!  Where did they disappear to?!_

_First Lance, permission for my unit to head to the Old City?!_

“Negative!”  Brucemeont snapped.  The Old City was the term given to the lower half of Ishgard that started directly underneath the Brume and ended right at the perpetual aetherstorm that raged around the mountain.  Legend had it that it had been devastated in a Dravanian attack, resulting in the inhabitants having to move upwards and create what was now the current city.  Rumor had it that the Old City had numerous passageways that extended in and around Ishgard proper, but it had never been explored.  The Knights Dragoon kept to the outer edges of the ruined underground whenever on patrol.

                _Ser! That’s probably how the heretics are-_

“It may be how they’re getting about but we have no intelligence on the area and I can’t afford to spare you!  Continue doing what you’re doing-” Brucemont trailed off, his eyes widening as that _other_ part of him suddenly roared into life, pulling his attention away from the physical realm.  A warning growl reverberated down his spine, and Brucemont gasped as the dragon-blood inside him started to burn.

                _He is here!_ Brucemont shook his head, trying to claw his way back to reality.  Briefly the image of his inner dragon pulling away into a darkened space flashed before his eyes.  _Do not go near, do not go near-_

_First Lance?  First Lance!_

“Wh-what?! What is it, report!”

                _He’s back!  The Azure is back!  With the Warrior of Light!_ Before Brucemont could respond, Estinien’s voice came over the Knight Dragoon linkpearl.

                _All units, report!_

It took Brucemont close to an hour to make his way back to the Congregation, diverting to help a group of injured Temple Knights.  During that time the fighting had ceased, and word was quickly spreading that Iceheart herself was in the city and had ordered her troops to stand down.  It had already been announced on the linkpearl of Nidhogg’s defeat, and the device had nearly shortened out from the volume of the cheers.  Yet the First Lance found that he couldn’t take any pleasure in the knowledge of the great wyrm's death.  Relief, yes, but anything else…  The whispers of his inner dragon came back as well, and Brucemont landed in the main courtyard of the Congregation.   Nearly all of his brothers and sisters who were on city duty were in the square, and heads turned to glance at him.  But instead of joy or celebration, everyone was…grim.  Brucemont blinked.

                _What in the world?_ His squire hurried over to him, bearing a waterskin and a breadroll.

                “The Azure wants to see you.”  He said.  Brucemont blinked at the younger elezen, the boy’s skin was pale.

                “Aubaut?  What’s wrong?”  Aubaut swallowed.

                “…It’s the Azure, ser.”  He said.  “You…well…” 

                “Brucemont!”  Estinein’s voice rang out across the courtyard.  The blue haired-elezen lifted his head, lips parting to respond.  He froze, eyes widening as his dragon shrieked an alarm, setting his blood afire again.  “My office.  Now.”

                _Halone save me!_   Brucemont heard himself automatically reply, his feet starting to take him over to where Estinien was standing.  But his mind was reeling in shock from what his otherworldy senses were telling him, and what his eyes were seeing.  The armor of the Azure Dragoon was normally jet black—a bit odd considering the title, but nobody had ever questioned it.  But what Brucemont was seeing wasn’t black drachen mail-no, it was a dull crimson red.  From helm to greaves the mail was the same shade.  And from the power that was coming off of it…sheer rancor.  The First Lance had only ever felt energy like that before only once…and that had been the trial for the title of Azure Dragoon.  His inner dragon hissed and pulled back into the shadows, and Brucemont found himself fleetingly wishing that he could follow.


	14. Politics (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the heels of Nidhogg's death, the Knights-Dragoon find themselves watching a political nightmare begin...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Continuation of theorycraft from the previous chapters. I took a little creative liberty in just how, when, and where the news of the truth of the Dragonsong War was broken...it never really felt right to me that Ser Aymeric and the others learned more or less in...the Fortemps Manor drawing room. <.< I also spaced out the timing some, because seriously...having come all the way back from the Churning Mists, having just defeated Nidhogg, and dealing with the invasion of Ishgard by Iceheart's people...somebody needed a few hours of sleep -someplace-, yo.)

                Stephan sagged against Illaenne.  The elezen blinked in surprise, looking down at the hyur.

                “Up all night?”  She asked.

                “I got cornered into playing babysitter.”  The Durendaire dragoon said, rubbing a palm over his eyes.  “Making sure Iceheart’s people and ours don’t start stabbing at each other.  You can guess how well that went.”  With a sigh, he pushed himself up.  “Not to mention that I’ve been twitchy ever since seeing the Azure.”

                “Everyone’s twitchy after seeing him.”  Illaenne said.  With a sigh, she reached for the teapot and refilled her cup.  “Brucemont said that he managed to get Nidhogg in his remaining eye and then ripped it out.”  Stephan winced, making a face as he reached out for his own mug.  “That’s when his armor was bloodied.”

                “Well, please Halone he gets rid of it soon.”  The hyur poured himself some tea and lifted the mug to his lips, taking in a few healthy swallows.  “He keeps running around in that and some of the newly-awakening squires might get set off.  I am really not in the mood to show some hatchling who’s the boss…”  He trailed off as a serving girl came over to him and Illaenne.

                “Ser Jienette?  I have a message from Master Lucian.  He says Ser Matthiaos has gone to confession, and so can’t meet you in the training hall.”  Stephen went very still, and Illaenne quickly put down her tea.

                “Thank you for letting me know.”  She said.  The servant bobbed in a quick curtsey and moved onto the next table. 

                “I’ll go first.”  Stephan said in a low whisper.  “Follow me in seven minutes?”

                “Aye.”  Illaenne said.  Outwardly she was the picture of calm, but internally her heart was beginning to race, nerves twisting her stomach.  Matthiaos was never one for the more formal church rites-and any reference to him participating in such was code for something major happening in House Fortemps. 

                _Halone bless us, what now?_

Their emergency meeting point was a shadowed alcove in the Jeweled Croizer.  Matthaios and Kauchiox were already waiting by the time Stephan and Illaenne arrived, the former pushing a cloth hood from off his head.

                “We have a serious problem.”  He said without introduction.  “The Warrior of Light, Count Fortemps, the Silver Fuller, the Lord High Commander, the First Commander, and the Azure all met in Count Fortemps’ office this morning for several bells.  Take a guess at what they talked about.”  Illaenne sucked in a breath.

                “Gods be good.”  She said.

                “The Lord High Commander left one bell ago and headed straight to the Vault.  The First Commander is at the Congregation, and we just came from meeting Ser Wyrmblood.”  Kauchiox said, his face grim. 

                “He’s doing what?!”  Stephan exclaimed, and then quickly put a hand to his mouth, looking around.  Lowering his voice, he continued.  “What business does he have at the Vault?!”

                “Confronting the Archbishop.”  Matthiaos’ answer made both Illaenne’s and Stephan’s jaws drop. 

                “Has he gone mad?  He’ll be arrested! They’ll try him for treason and…”  Stephan trailed off as the full implications hit.  “Halone bless us.  There’s going to be chaos.”

                “There’s going to be more than that.”  Kauchiox said darkly. “If the Lord High Commander doesn’t return from the Vault in another two bells, the First Commander, the Warrior of Light, the Silver Fuller and Ser Estinien will begin to make plans to retrieve him.  By any means necessary.”

                “They’re going to break into the Vault?”  Illaenne whispered, shocked.

                “They may have no choice.  The Temple Knights are going to split into two if the Lord High Commander gets arrested, and the Houses are going to do the same.  And if the rumor about him and the Archbishop is true, then that’s only going to kick off even more trouble.”  Matthiaos replied.

                “Add in the fact that the Archbishop and the Heaven’s Ward haven’t inspired much in the way of confidence for anyone in the military with a working brain ever since the Horde started to prepare to attack the city and it’s going to be ugly.” Kauchiox added.

                “So, what are we to do?”  Stephan asked.

                “Call in every single one of our brothers and sisters right now in the city and warn them that there’s going to be trouble.  And if it does break out-we’re neutral.”  Matthiaos said.  “No taking sides.  For those of us outside the city-if they’re resupplying, they need to do so now and get to their rest-camps.  Direct orders from the Azure himself.”

                “Does the First Lance know?”  Illaenne asked.

                “Ser Wrymblood was calling for him when we left, so it’s more than likely he’s about to find out.”  Kauchiox said.  “Pray to Halone that the Archbishop sees reason, and nothing happens…”


	15. Politics (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aymeric is arrested, and Estinien dictates where the Order will stand...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This was...hard for me to write, considering I was going waayyy out into theorycraft territory! Anyway. Please enjoy.)

                It was past the third bell of the afternoon when the Heavens’ Ward made a move.  Estinien and Brucemont were deep in planning and discussion—despite Nidhogg’s death, his Horde still seemed to be relatively put together, and so the Knights Dragoon had to adjust accordingly.  The Azure Dragoon would shoot glances at the chronometer every so often, and Brucemont would glance sideways at Estinien’s armor on the nearby stand.  After the fifth look-over, Brucemont turned his head back only to catch Estinien looking at him.

                “A-ah…”  The white-haired elezen shook his head.

                “It’s alright.  I plan on having that purified and reforged soon.  I know it’s…”  He paused.  “Disturbing.”

                “Disturbing is an understatement, ser.”  Brucemont said, offering a wry grin.  “But if anything, it shows that you were the right choice to be the Azure.  I wouldn’t have been able to withstand the Eye and that at the same time…none of us would.”

                “You give yourself far too little credit, Brucemont.  You’ve survived attacks and encounters that have felled the lesser among us, and you’ve done an admirable job at keeping us lot in order.”  Estinien said, holding up a finger.  “In fact, I…”  He trailed off as there was a knock on the door.  “Enter!”  The wood creaked, and Aubaut stuck his head around the door.

                “Sers.  There’s…there’s someone from the Heavens’ Ward here.”  His voice trembled.  Estinien and Brucemont both glanced at each other.  “He wants to see you, my lord Wrymblood.  Immediately.”

                “Keep him where he is.”  Estinien ordered.  “We’ll be down shortly.”

                “Courage, Aubaut.”  Brucemont said, his voice firm, but gentle.  “Don’t get rattled.”  The younger elezen nodded, pulling back and closing the door.  Estinien glanced towards the timepiece.

                “…Two bells exactly.”  He said, rising.  Brucemont followed suit.  “Everyone has been warned?”

                “Aye.  Everyone who can be on a string is out on it, and anyone who’s off duty knows what to do if they’re approached.”  The blue-haired elezen said.  Estinien nodded.

                “Let’s see what’s going on, shall we?”

 

\----------

 

                A tall, blond haired elezen in the blue and white armor of the Heavens’ Ward stood in the empty mess hall, arms crossed.  Hearing the footsteps of Estinien and Brucemont, he turned around.

                “Ser Wrymblood.  Brucemont, hello.”  He bowed.

                “Ignasse.”  Estinien said shortly, coming to a stop and crossing his arms, Brucemont standing alongside him.  “What brings you down from the Vault to mingle among us heathens?”  Ignasse offered a weak smile.

                “You’re still as prickly as ever.”  He said.  “My purpose is both good and bad, I fear.  But first, the Archbishop wishes to offer you his personal congratulations on the defeat of our people’s oldest and most deadly enemy.  Be assured when this dreadful business is over, you will be well rewarded for your bravery and dedication.”

                “Dreadful business?”  Brucemont repeated.  Ignasse looked at him.

                “Yes.  It was discovered today that the former Lord High Commander has been in league with Iceheart’s followers.”  He shook his head.  “Possibly there could be others in the Temple Knights as well, and even the High Houses.”  Only experience kept Brucemont from boggling at the blatant lie, and Estinien narrowed his eyes.  “As such, I’ve come to inform you that as of now the Congregation, consisting of the Temple Knights and the Knight-Dragoon order, will be under the command of the Heavens’ Ward-”

                “Whatever game the Church and the High Houses are playing with each other, the Order will not be taking any part in.”  Estinien’s voice was pure frost, the tone making Ignasse check. 

                “I beg your pardon?”

                “You heard me.  Whatever spat the Church and the High Houses are having, we are not having any part of it.  That includes any orders given by any member of the Church, including you, yours, and the Archbishop.”  Brucemont glanced around-yep, a few of their brothers and sisters had come out of the woodwork to eavesdrop.  Ignasse’s eyes narrowed.

                “This is no game.  You should take note, Wrymblood, that your name has come up as a person of interest-”

                “Matthiaos!”  Estinien called.  The Fortemps dragoon appeared almost out of thin air, wraithlike.  His eyes held a draconic gleam as he looked at the twelfth member of the Heavens’ Ward.

                “Azure.”

                “Master Vesnaint has overstayed his welcome in a place of sanctuary.”  Had not the situation been so serious, Brucemont would have choked laughing at the look on Ignasse’s face.  “Show him the door.”  The blond elezen recovered, narrowing his eyes at Estinien.

                “I can make my own way out.”  Turning on a white-armored heel, he paused.  “But expect there to be repercussions, Wrymblood.”  The room was silent as he left, and then Estinien cleared his throat.

                “Everyone, back as you were.  Matthiaos, Brucemont, with me.”  He ordered.

 

\--------------

 

                “Matthios, I need you to go to Count Fortemps and warn him.”  The trio had returned to Estinien’s office, and the white-haired elezen was starting to quickly strap on the tainted armor.  “If they already had a story like that together then that means they’re making their move right now.”

                “What are you going to do?”  Matthiaos asked.

                “Find the First Sword and the Warrior of Light.”  Estinien reached for his Gale Bog, strapping it onto his back.  “Brucemont-”

                “Anyone attempting to violate the sanctuary order is shown the door with extreme prejudice.  You are aware that some family members may be coming-” Pulling his helm on, Estinien moved to the window and opened it.

                “As long as the order for neutrality is obeyed, I don’t care who comes here for safety.”  He said.  “I’ll contact you by pearl when I know more.”


	16. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A knight of Ishgard falls, and the effects ripple into the Knights Dragoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The formatting messed up for some reason, and I couldn't correct it. Short and sweet chapter.)

Rain rarely fell in Ishgard.  Yet the day was overcast and gloomy, and rain had started to fall in the early hours of the morning and showed no signs of letting up.  To Ileanne, it seemed as if it was a possible sign from Halone, the Fury expressing her grief over what was happening to her city, and the events of the Vault.  With a sigh, the Hallienarte dragoon removed her helm.  A faint smile crossed her face as Coldfire handed her a towel.

“My thanks.”  The ice-blue dragoon nodded, pulling off his helm to reveal messy blond hair and brown eyes. 

“Laundry’s got plenty of those warming up for everyone today.”  He said.  “City-patrol’s horrid, the rain’s freezing on the perches and rooftops.  Plus, we’re down some people, but the same for the outside strings…”  Ileanne sighed and nodded, rubbing the warm towel over her face.

“The Fortemps dragoons might take a while to return.”  She said softly.  Memories from two nights ago drifted to the forefront of her mind.

 

 

_Matthiaos howling, tears pouring down his face.  Kauchiox hugging his friend tightly, trying to push him backwards as Matthiaos tried to push forward, arms flailing.  Another Fortemps dragoon was wailing in the arms of a Temple Knight, and faintly Illaenne could hear a voice screaming over her linkpearl.  The Warrior of Light, her clothes torn and bloody, tears pouring down her face.  A battered and bleeding Ser Aymeric being supported by Lucia, whose eyes were red-rimmed.  Estinien bringing up the rear-his body stiff and tight with tension, carrying a broken shield._

_And in front of them, being carried on a bier by two Temple Knights…Illeanne froze, horror rising inside of her as she took in the scene—was the Silver Fuller.  A gaping wound was in his midsection, and Illeanne just knew from experience that it had punched though completely, front to back.  Blood was everywhere-on his armor, his lips, the bier—even dripping onto the stones of the Hoplon.  As she watched, another Temple Knight hurried over with a white cloth to quickly throw over the body, and Illeanne briefly got a glimpse of Haurchefant’s face.  A look of peace was on the silver-haired Elezen’s features._

“-you know who’s gone?”  Coldfire’s question snapped Illaenne back to reality, and she shook her head to clear it.

“Ah…sorry.  Matthiaos…I think he’ll be taking a day or two, Cobalt might come back, I’m not too sure.   Snowsinger is probably going to follow Matthiaos, and the others…”  Ileanne trailed off.  Haurchefant had been friends with several of the House Fortemps dragoons, who were understandably taking his loss hard.  “I did see them at the funeral.”  Coldfire nodded.

“They say Count Edmont’s taking it hard.”  He said quietly.   With a sigh, Illeanne started to remove her gauntlets. 

“Little too late on his part.”  She muttered.  “I’m going to stretch out for a bit.”  Coldfire nodded, and IIeanne headed for the stairs.  Like most dragoons, she had a small room for herself in the dormitories.  It was still early in the afternoon yet, and Illeanne found that she was alone as she made her way into the living quarters and towards her door.  She paused for several moments, then unlocked it, stepping inside quickly.  A shadowy figure twitched as she shut the door behind her, and then ventured into the weak light that was coming through a window.

“I…I’m sorry.”  Matthiaos’ voice was raspy, and his eyes were bloodshot.  Ileanne didn’t say anything, setting her gaunlets to the side.  “I know…you don’t want…I shouldn’t be here…but…”  The female elezen didn’t respond, simply spreading out her arms.

“Come here.”  She said.  Grief rippled over Matthiaos’ features, and he staggered towards her.  Illeanne didn’t say anything, only pulling Matthiaos close as he fell into her arms.  Closing her eyes, she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

 

 

 

 


	17. Tension (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the ceasefire casts an unsteady calm over Ishgard, the Knights Dragoon learn of a new threat...and the stress and strain finally begin to show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Right. I felt it odd that there never really was any serious mention of the Empire's arrival in the Sea of Clouds...but I believe it would be problematic for the Ishgardians, given the history of the Empire up to that time. Ishgard being politically unstable [and possibly dragon-free] presents a rather tempting target for the Imperials. It also potentially puts stress on the Knights Dragoon, as they literally were Ishgard's only version of an aerial scouting/attack force. So far we have no evidence in the game as of yet of there being anything otherwise [while I know the Domans possibly could be counted but that seems to be restricted only to the tribes of the Steppe, Hien's actions in Ala Mhigo aside].
> 
> So at this point, the Knights Dragoon are dealing with revelations coming from their people in Dravania, namely the presence of a dragonflight that wanted nothing to do with the war and having a settlement rather relatively close to Coerthas, along with physical evidence that the history of Ishgard was basically a construct of lies, backlash of the events of Aymeric's imprisonment/the Vault, Nidhogg's Horde seemingly still organized, possibly gearing up for a major attack still, whatever-the-hell-vibes are coming off of Estinien's armor, and now possibly the Empire making a move. I think it's safe to say that the stress -was- starting to rear it's ugly head.)

                An uneasy pall had descended upon the city.  Aymeric had moved quickly to take the Archbishop’s place and restore order to Ishgard, issuing a gag order to the Church and Congregation when it came to the events of the Vault.  To explain the absence of the Heavens’ Ward, it was given out that they had gone on a holy pilgrimage under the orders of the Archbishop in thanks for Nidhogg’s defeat.  As for the Archbishop, it was said that he had decided to withdraw from the public for a spiritual retreat.  Haurchefant’s death (for now) was said to have been the result of a brief insurrection within the Congregation over the ceasefire between the Holy See and the heretics.  But not even the most enforced of edicts could stop gossip and rumors.  When it was learned that the Warrior of Light had left for the Sea of Clouds, and the Knights Dragoon were undergoing official surveys into Dravania, it only added even more fuel to the fire…

 

                Kauchiox exhaled, reaching for a mug of tea as he read over the reports in front of him.  Maenne and her unit had been the ones charged with the ‘official’ excursion into Dravania.  A companion of the Warrior of Light had accompanied them, which had turned out to possibly be a good idea.

                “There’s still Horde activity going on.”  He said, taking a sip from the mug.  “They’re still organized-Maenne’s unit almost walked into an ambush shortly after their arrival.”

                “Which means probably one of Nidhogg’s offspring now has control over them.”  Stephan said, frowning at his own set of papers.  “Could probably be starting to prepare for another attack.”  He looked at the Duskwight.  “Anything from the Holy See about…?”

                “Foaming at the mouth to get their hands on the reports.”  Kauchiox exhaled.  “The Lord High Commander’s holding them off, but I suspect Charibert’s people might pull some…”  The sound of running footsteps made both men look up.  A ginger-haired squire, his armor denoting that he was a senior-trainee skidded to a halt in front of the two, saluting.

                “Sers!  You’re…you’re…”  He panted, trying to catch his breath.

                “Oi, you’re Pendragon’s newling.”  Kauchiox said in surprise.  “What’s got you running through here with jellyfish in your pants?”  The teenager sucked in a breath.

                “Senior dragoons are to report to the First Lance right now!”  He got out, voice raspy.  “A report’s come in from the Sea of Clouds.  Silver cereluem’s been spotted, sers!”  Kauchoix and Stephan both froze, staring at the squire.

                “…Silver cereluem?”  Stephan repeated.  “Squire, are you sure…” 

                “From my master himself!”  The teen watched as both men exploded from their seats and raced towards the door.

 

\--------------------

 

                “ _GARLEANS ARE RUNNING AROUND IN THE SEA OF CLOUDS AND WE’RE ONLY JUST NOW FINDING OUT ABOUT THIS?!_ ”  The bellow greeted Stephan and Kauchiox as they hurried into Estinien’s office.

                “Frostwhisper, a little sweiving louder, eh?  Make sure the See can hear you!” 

                “Settle down, settle down!”  Brucemont snapped.  Kauchiox winced as he shut the door, glancing in-between the press of bodies.  He spotted Matthiaos standing just off to the side of the Azure’s desk, and Illaenne was a few fulms away. 

                “Frostwhisper, quiet.”  Brucemont ordered.   “Pendragon, continue.”  A black-haired hyuran man in cobalt armor shook his head.

                “That was the entirety of it, ser.”  He said.  “I was heading back when I picked up the call from the Ironworks ship, they ran into it too.”

                “Ran into what?”  Stephan asked.

                “An Imperial warship.”  Brucemont said.  A hush fell over the room. “And based on Pendragon’s description, the same type that fell to the dragons’ king at Silvertear.”  Soft gasps and stunned stares met this pronouncement. 

                “How in Halone’s name did they even…”  Illaenne broke the silence, her skin pale and eyes wide.  “We-we would have noticed…”

                “We don’t have patrols for the _entire_ region.”  Another dragoon commented.  Pendragon nodded.

                “They were on a western track.”  He said.  Striding over to a map that was on Brucemont’s wall, he looked to the First Lance, who nodded.  Picking up a pencil, the hyur started to draw arrows on the parchment.  “Ironworks reported them staying on it, away from the Sea.  My guess is that they came in through the northern islands.”

                “That makes sense.”  Matthiaos said, striding over to the map.  “We’ve no information on that section of the Sea of Clouds, and it would take three moons to at least get something usable.”

                “Do you know if they dropped off any soldiers?”  Another dragoon asked.  Pendragon glanced towards Brucemont again.  The elezen cleared his throat.

                “An Ironworks airship is supposed to be returning within several bells with…some captives.”  He said.  He quickly held up a hand to quell any chatter.  “I don’t know all the details, but the Azure is meeting with the Lord High Commander now.”

                “Do you think they were waiting for Nidhogg’s defeat?”  Stephan asked, a realization suddenly dawning on him.  “Isn’t that how they took Ala Mhigo?”  Then he went silent as Brucemont shot him a glare that could peel skin.

                “We do not know anything yet, and it’s a waste of energy to make assumptions.”  The First Lance’s tone was glacial.  Then he exhaled.  “But…I won’t deny that could be a worry.  No one’s heard from the Empire for a very long time now, and this sighting is troublesome.  I called you all because it’s going to be an automatic given that we now have to factor this into our planning.”  Low groans and soft curses rippled through the room.

                “Ser, how in the seven hells can we do anything?!”  A Dzemael dragoon exclaimed.  “We can’t take on any more work, we’re stretched thin as it is!”

                “Aye!  It’s going to be hard enough adding in Dravanian patrols but now the Empire?  We don’t have the manpower!” 

                “If we tap the senior squires and the first-years…”  Brucemont held up a hand again as the chatter resumed, raising his voice.  “If we tap the senior squires and the first-years-- I don’t like it either-- but if we assign them temporarily to watch out for any Imperial movements, it will give us some breathing room until we can figure out something a bit more permanent.”

                “You can’t give newlings that sort of stuff, ser!”  
                “But we can’t afford to put seniors on it either!”  Matthiaos snapped.  Then he bared his teeth as the other dragoon growled at him, and Illaenne quickly stepped into the fray.

                “Everyone just calm down!”  She snapped.  “Look.  We’re all tired.  Many of us are heartsick and grieving.”  The room fell silent at her words.  “We’re all doing the best we can.  This is just one more obstacle that we have to overcome—and let’s be honest, how many of us have had it in the back of our minds that after Nidhogg was defeated, that our spears might be turning towards the Empire next?”

                “We’re being caught with our fucking pants down.”  Came a comment.  Illaenne snorted.

                “Oh, like we’re not used to that?”  She said.  Wry chuckles rippled throughout the group, breaking the tension.  Brucemont smiled, then sighed.

                “The Lord High Commander and the Azure know we’re being run ragged.”  He said.  “If we were to ask it, you know some of the Temple Knights could be handed this duty…but I know, we all know, we wouldn’t feel comfortable with it.”  Soft murmurs of agreement.  “The sky is our domain, and if the Empire is turning its’ gaze towards us…we are the only aerial defense.  Praise Halone that Nidhogg’s defeated and while the Horde seems to still be a problem, they’re being quiet enough now that we can try to at least figure out something.”  Heads nodded, and Brucemont continued. “I should also add, we don’t know anything for sure until the captives come to the Congregation and can be questioned.  Once we have that information, then we can make more solid plans.”  He looked around.  “Agreed?”

                “Aye sir!”


	18. Squires (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two squires and two first-year dragoons get a chance to explore a Castrum...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Andd here's a small interlude about Castrum Aquilonis! And interestingly, construction started on it -after- the Calamity, according to the lore. Then it got abandoned due to the weather, but it's never brought up in Ishgard or Coerthas [as far as I've been able to determine.] It's a mystery on who ordered it constructed as well, as Nael was...well, presumed dead and Gaius was presumably preparing for his return to Eorzea.
> 
> Also it is lore in game that noble weddings in Ishgard can and do get violent. Figured the GoT reference wouldn't hurt!)

                Reinhardt squatted down on the pavement, running his fingers over it. Lifting his hand, he rubbed his fingers together and watched the dirt and grime cake off and fall to the ground.  In the back of his mind he could hear the whispers of his slowly-wakening other self, mixing with the murmur of the wind in his ears.  The air was stale, filled with the smell of mildew and rust.

                “Well?”  Reinhardt rose, dusting off his hands.

                “Nobody’s been in here for moons!”  He called.  “Hell, cycles!  You didn’t need my talent to tell you that!”  Armor clinked, and a elezen dressed in newly-minted drachen mail came walking over.

                “I’m not the one who gave out this assignment.  I just got partnered with you and dipshite over there.”  He said, jerking a thumb toward Reinhardt’s partner. 

                “Aaayyy, fuck you.”  Arsune said, flipping the other elezen the finger.  Reinhardt snorted, looking around the building.

                “I’ve always passed by here on patrols with my teacher, but never got a chance to go in.”  He said.  The trio were inside the main building of Castrum Aquilonis, in the southernmost reaches of Coerthas.  “They seriously were building this after the Calamity?”

                “Yup.”  The drachen-clad elezen crossed his arms, looking around. “I remember my mother talking to my father about this.  The Holy See’s trying to get people out of the countryside and the fortifications, and then suddenly, this thing popped up on the horizon.  There was a call to take the army and kill the bastards, but they couldn’t spare anyone.  By the time they could get enough troops together and headed over here, the cold had really set in, and the Imperials were gone.”  He paused, putting a hand to his ear as his linkpearl went off.  “Hold on a moment…”  Reinhardt nodded, moving to stand next to Arsune.

                “I thought you were going to be out of the city.”  He said, voice low.

                “I thought so too.  But whatever the hell the Lord High Commander’s doing to keep the Inquisition in check must be working, because apparently it’s still safe for me to be around.”  Arsune answered in an equally low tone.  The Duskwight had accidently ingested dragon-blood during a fight with a dragon while on patrol with his teacher and as such, was struggling to deal with a sudden boost of power to his newly-awakening inner dragon.  He gestured.  “What do you think about all of this?”

                “The Empire?”  Reinhardt answered.  Blowing out a breath, he looked around.  “Dunno.”  He turned his head, catching the other elezen walking over to them.

                “That was Ovrant.  Nothing’s outside, unless you count monster-shite.”  He said.  “This patrol-string is going to suck.”

                “Maybe not so much if the Empire does pass back though here?”  Arsune offered.  The other elezen shook his head.

                “I doubt that.”

                “You two are fucking lucky, you get to at least still stick to the city!”  Another first-year dragoon stuck their head through the entrance.  “At least remember us with the gossip over what’s really going on, aye?”

                “Ovrant!”  The first dragoon scolded.

                “Whaat?  Look, we all know what’s really going on.  The Lord High Commander’s covering up something big.”  Ovrant dropped his voice.  “They said the Heavens’ Ward and the Archbishop fled the city, and the Silver Fuller was trying to stop them.”

                “Stop fucking spreading rumors!”

                “I don’t know…”  Arsune said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Haven’t you all really thought on why the Church isn’t kicking up a bigger fuss over what’s going on?”

                “Not really, because it seems the Lord High Commander’s got them by the short ones.”

                “Yeah, but what exactly?”  Arsune pressed.  “Consider the Inquisition—hell, the Grand Inquisitor’s people!”  The others fell silent.  “Only an intercession from Halone could make that lot fucking stand still!”

                “I can testify to that.”  Reinhardt said softly.  “Lord Pendragon and his fiancée are rushing to get everything done for their wedding.  Any opposition’s fallen by the wayside with everything that’s going on.”

                “When is it?”  Reinhardt racked his brain.

                “The Ul’dahn ceremony is the next fortnight.”  He said.  “Count Fortemps has already ordered a wedding reception.  Then a fortnight after that, the full formal ceremony at the Twelve-temple in Gridania.”

                “Huh?  Why not here?  Or are they still hung up on her being an outsider and the whole coup?”  Ovrant asked.

                “That, but more so that Lord Pendragon’s afraid of the whole thing turning into a red wedding.”  Reinhardt said.  All three elezen winced in unison.

                “Say no more!”  Weddings in Ishgard had a high chance of turning into murderous affairs, with families/enemies seeking to settle grudges. 

                “Nuptials aside…”  Ovrant looked around.  “You two had best head on out and make a report.  Pray that we’ll get off this shit-assignment soon, huh?”

                “Hey, at least you’re living a little while longer.”  Arsune said.

                “I’d like to actually get some proper dragon-fighting in and win some honor!”  Reinhardt turned towards the exit, tossing up a wave.

                “We’ll let you know what’s happening!”  He called out.


	19. Sex and Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding reception brings a brief respite to some members of the Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A possible look at the implications of a noble dragoon wedding! Also credit to an FFXIV buddy of mine, Laurentiox, for Dzemael population problems and scheming!)

Matthiaos helped himself to several chicken-legs as Stephan looked around the room.

“It must be so nice to be a favorite vassal house.” The hyur said. “Gods, when Durendaire’s own pet got married he didn’t get anything half as nice as this.”

“That’s because your liege lord is cheap.” Matthiaos said around a mouthful of meat. Stephan shot the half elezen/half hyur a dirty look.

“I can very easily rectify the lack of violence at this party so far, just so you know.” His voice was dry. Matthiaos cackled, reaching for a goblet of wine. “Pendragon would understand, I’ve no ill will towards him or his bride.” Kauchiox came up from behind, spearing a chicken-leg off Matthiaos’ plate with a fork.

“This is a seriously nice party.” He said, ignoring the dirty look Matthiaos was giving him. “And here I thought my House treated their favorites well.” The wedding reception was in full swing, the great feasting hall of the Fortemps manor richly decorated in the Pendragon colors of blue and white. Wine and other drink was flowing freely, and the tables were laden with various foods expertly prepared by the main kitchens. Servants were unobtrusively replacing candles while guests chattered, a mix of nobles, military, and commonfolk. At the high table, Pendragon could be seen whispering to his new bride, who was quite pink from the attention she was receiving. Kauchiox grinned, taking a bite of food.

“Those two are going to have fun tonight.” He quipped.

“What have I told you about stealing my food?!” Matthiaos snapped.

“The table’s too far, I’m lazy.” Stephan ignored the bickering, looking around the room again.

“Halone’s mercy, they invited the Fabrons?” He commented. 

“The guest list I think was a combination of ‘friends’ and ‘people who didn’t mind the bride’s background’ and ‘required invitations because the last thing needed is to piss off some other noble house’.” Matthiaos said, holding his plate out of reach. “Also add in ‘possible allies’ because as of right now, House Pendragon consists of Cobalt, his new wife, his grandfather, and his sister.” Stephan’s head snapped back towards Matthiaos, his eyes widening in shock.

“Whaaattt?”

“I told you!” Matthiaos swallowed a mouthful of wine and gestured to Count Fortemps, who was sitting alongside the bride and groom. “The old man ordered that Cobalt be made family head—of which he was supposed to have been anyway, and stripped and the uncle and all his family of all the holdings! He has to start completely over from scratch!” Illaenne walked over to the trio, armor clinking.

“I need to get in touch with Lady Honarae of my House after this.” She said, stealing Matthiaos’s goblet and taking a sip of wine. “Pendragon’s new wife is going to need a lot of help, the vultures are already circling.”

“Why does everyone steal my food?!”

“She’s so very sweet.” Illaenne gestured with the goblet. “But she doesn’t know anything about the nobility, and she’s already had some bad encounters with the priesthood.”

“She looks sweet but she’s not.” Kauchiox said. “She studied arcanistry in Limsa, I’ve seen her walking over to him in the Congregation in her armor and a spellbook on her hip.” Matthiaos had given up on getting his goblet back from Illaenne, snagging another one from a passing servant.

“The House has her registered as an adventurer on the payrolls.” He said. “And I think she’s done some combat, mostly helping out at Camp Dragonhead…woman stop stealing my food!” Illaenne had snatched the remaining chicken-leg from off his plate.

“Food table’s too far away.” She said. Kauchiox and Stephen repressed snorts of laughter. Matthiaos cursed, then stalked away to refill his empty plate. A roar of merriment came from the high table, the new bride had buried her face in her husband’s shoulder at a particularly lewd joke.

“The sex is probably the only reason why he was able to land her.” Stephan cracked. Kauchiox elbowed him.

“Be nice to the groom.” He said. “Pendragon deserves a bit of happiness, he’s had so much shite to deal with.” Matthiaos came back over with a full plate.

“Touch it and die.” He turned around, surveying the room. “Passed by some grumbling on the way over, quite a few mamas are upset Cobalt’s off the market.”

“Eh, your House has enough single men to dry their tears.” Kauchiox eyed his partner’s plate. 

“Not as much as yours.” Matthiaos countered.

“Please don’t remind me. After this I need to go throttle one of the Count’s nephews, he’s gone and knocked up another chambermaid again.”

“Again?” Illaenne exclaimed.

“Again.”

“Your House has entirely too many male heirs.” Stephan noted. 

“Everyone has too many male heirs.” Kauchiox groused. “Half the problems I have to deal with in Dzemael could be solved with some disinheriting. Swear to Halone, the current Count’s underestimating the female side of his House and it’s going to bite him in the arse.”

“Disinheriting would probably help a lot of the problems among the High Houses, period.” Illaenne said. Then a grin crossed her face. “Hello, hello, what’s this?” The bride and groom had left their chairs, Pendragon leading his new wife rather sneakily towards the room’s exit.

“Oh praise Halone. I did not want to do a bedding ceremony with this lot.” Stephan said. “Smart man.”

“Many happy nights for those two.” Kauchiox chuckled, toasting the departing forms. “And if Halone wills it, a little one in the nursery before the year’s out.”


	20. Countdown (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reason why Estinien kept that blood-soaked drachen-mail...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So figured an Estinien bit would be good for chapter 20! o_o surprised this fic has come this far, heh heh. *bows* Thank you for all the support and kind words so far!
> 
> It’s never really mentioned just WHY Estinien stayed in the blood-soaked armor, but considering that he makes a comment on how it displeases him and he needs to get it reforged, there had to be a very good reason why he didn’t get it done. It’s been aired that keeping his mail as it was enhanced his powers, which were definitely needed for Azys Lla. But seeing as how there’s a time gap inbetween the events of the Vault and the breaching of the islands’ floating barrier, I figured there had to be more to it.
> 
> I decided to run with the theory that he didn’t get it redone/was waiting to get it redone because of how long it possibly takes to repair/create drachen mail. Also from my experiences in the game, nothing’s really said (again) on that time period between the Vault/Warrior of Light’s return on dragonback in Ishgard, so I decided to assume that while Aymeric probably started with one hell of a grip on power in the city, as time progressed it would start to fray, the Church would start chomping at the bit, looking for possibly any little thing to start trouble/seize power back/demand to know what was going on. 
> 
> Estinien also seems to be the type of commander to me that would prioritize the safety of his men/their combat readiness over his own. However over time (as it’s shown at the airship landing before the WoL’s second departure to Azys Lla) it could be that the corruption was starting to affect his judgement.)

The armorsmith nervously wrung his hands, swallowing. Giving bad news to anyone high up was stressful enough, but having the Azure Dragoon come to the Knight-Dragoon smithy and having to speak to him…

“…We have no supplies left? At all?” The elezen shook his head in response to the question. 

“We’ve barely been able to keep the armor repaired, let alone make the new suits of mail for those who pass the trials.” He said, gesturing to a pile of mangled blue metal. “Ser Pendragon just took the last repair slot, and at this point it looks as if he needs an entirely new set.” The older elezen paused, then continued.

“We can reforge your armor ser, but given the corruption to it, we’d have to augment it with fresh material and that would mean someone doesn’t get repairs or a suit.” Estinien closed his eyes. He needed new drachen-mail. Nidhogg’s blood was causing trouble for both his sanity and for the men and women he ventured near. 

“Can a supply run be made?” He asked.

“We’d have trouble with it. Inquisition’s been lurking around the Congregation, pulling away anyone for the slightest of faults.” Estinien growled softly, turning away and rubbing a temple.

_Nothing’s ever easy, godsdamn it all._ Tempers in the Order were near their breaking point, as the dragoons had been struggling to deal with maintaining a lookout for Imperial activity in addition to their normal duties. Aymeric’s grip on the Church—which had started as a stranglehold—was starting to weaken as questions began to circulate about the Archbishop and the Heaven’s Ward. The Warrior of Light had encountered her own difficulties—having been able to track the errant Archbishop and the Ward but then losing them behind the protective forcefield of Azys Lla. The Ironworks airship needed a complete retrofit, having been damaged during the pursuit and was now in dry-dock. The Warrior of Light herself had left Ishgard once more-heading for the Dravanian Hinterlands to search for a weapon that could be used to break the Allagan barrier. 

_Breathe. Breathe. You are in control._ Estinien made himself inhale, and then exhale. Inhale, and then exhale. His grip on his temper was significantly better today, as he wasn’t wearing his armor. _One thing at a time…_ As his mind calmed, the whispers that had been plaguing him every so often ceased, and a faint shimmer of an idea bubbled to the surface. Estinien tilted his head, lowering his hand.

“…Can you set up a forge outside of the city?” He asked, turning around. The armorsmith blinked in surprise.

“What?”

“A makeshift forge.” Estinien said. “If we bring the reagents, can you set up a makeshift forge outside of the city for repairs?” It sounded ludicrous but at this point considering all sanity in the city had already been thrown out the window… The other elezen frowned, crossing his arms.

“…Technically, we’ve already got one, ser. Falcon’s Nest is set up for the quick patchwork repairs needed when you all are in Western Coerthas.” He said. “It wouldn’t take too much to make it a fully operational one, but it could draw attention…”

“It doesn’t need to be fully operational.” Estinien said. “The major thing right now is repairs primarily, aye? The Inquisition’s not sniffing around out there, it’s a safe spot to bring in the supplies…” The armorsmith nodded, seeing what the Azure was getting at.

“Aye, that’d be a safe spot for now. But we need to make the full sets here for the newbloods.” He said, gesturing. “Now if the Inquisition could bloody ease up a bit, we could bring in one big haul that could get the suits made.”

“How many suits?” Estinien asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Looking at about seven, considering that’s all the squires left for your trials.”

_Which cuts down to between possibly three or four surviving, which leaves material left over._ Drachen armor that was unclaimed from trials or had already been given to a squire who had failed their next test was reclaimed and repurposed. Estinien frowned, mentally going over timetables and patrol-strings.

“If I ordered a hunt today and got materials to Falcon’s Nest by…” _Coldfire and Snowsinger are relatively speedy, and they know how to harvest the scales without damage. Add in Matthiaos and his partner…_ “Week’s end, how soon can you get the repairs underway?”

“We’d need to send some of our people with-” Estinien shook his head. “Ah-without? We can have the forge modified and running by day after tomorrow if we push it. Then depending on repairs…” The elezen hurried over to a nearby table, looking at a set of papers. “We can have the minor repairs done by next week. Major repairs, about a fortnight. If you can get some of the trials staggered out a bit, it can give us some breathing room in making the new suits.”

“Do it. I’ll see what I can provide you.” Estinien ordered. The armorsmith’s head popped up.

“And what about yours?” He asked, eyes wide. Estinien paused. Self-preservation warred with duty, he needed, needed, **needed** a new set of armor. But…

“If I don’t take priority…” He said slowly. “When is the soonest I can get a new suit?” 

“S-ser…?”

“When is the soonest, if I don’t take priority, and wait in line with the rest of my brothers and sisters?” Estinien repeated the question. 

“We…we…” The other elezen stammered, and then looked down at his papers. “A…ah…you if you didn’t take priority, and matters were arranged that we could get everyone squared away, and if there weren’t any emergencies…” He swallowed. “Possibly...next moon…or the moon after next…” Estinien was silent for several moments, and then nodded.

_If I’ve held out for this long, what’s another few weeks?_ “Do it.” He ordered. “Get the Falcon’s Nest forge going for major repair work, and you’ll have blood and scales by the end of the week there. I’ll speak to the Lord High Commander about getting the Inquisition away from us long enough to get what you need for the full-suit repairs and forging.”

“Ser…are you sure you’re going to be able to…” The armorsmith blurted out, and then stopped. “I’m sorry!” Estinien shrugged, lifting up his hands.

“It is uncomfortable to wear and it has been getting on my nerves.” He said, lying smoothly. “But given our situation, I cannot in good conscience monopolize what limited supplies we have and what we can get for my own comfort and safety.” It was a gamble, but…

_If I wear it piecemeal, I can ignore the corruption. Get stronger warding seals for my office, restrict everyone but Brucemont and the most senior dragoons._ “Get to work. I’ll get you your supplies.”


	21. Tension (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Azure Dragoon has fallen, the lies of Ishgard's past are about to be revealed, and the Knights Dragoon are put on the path to hit a long-overdue breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (And here's 21! Going to be sticking to the MSQ along with a bit more theorycrafting, so please enjoy!
> 
> Of note: It's never mentioned that with Nidhogg controlling Estinien, he would have had full knowledge of the city's defenses.. )

The room was deathly silent. Brucemont watched as the Warrior of Light swallowed, her fingers fluttering. Ishgard’s savior was nervous, and while he damn well couldn’t blame her, he just didn’t have the mindspace needed to deal with her fears. Not after what she had just said.

“Could…could you repeat that?” Matthiaos asked. His voice was quiet-not a good thing from the Fortemps dragoon. Brucemont knew for a fact that he’d been dealing with double-patrols for the past half-moon and was running on fumes. “Because…I’m not too certain on what I heard. It sounded like you just said our leader is **_possessed by Nidhogg._**."

“Matthiaos.” Illaenne said softly, reaching out a hand to rest it on his arm. “Let her explain." Kauchiox rumbled softly in agreement. The Warrior of Light swallowed again, her eyes flicking to Ser Aymeric, and then to Brucemont. The blue-haired elezen simply stared back. 

“The Archbishop had Nidhogg’s other eye lodged in…his sword.” She said. “Estinien went over to retrieve it. He said he was going to take them both someplace far away so they wouldn’t be used…and then it happened. The Eyes reacted, and before I could get over there…” She trailed off. “His armor, his body…it all vanished, and Nidhogg was standing there.” Illaenne uttered a low moan, bowing her head. Stephan cursed, and Brucemont wished he could do the same. Aymeric stepped forward.

“This…is…” He paused, lower jaw working. “I will not lie, I have asked far too much of you over the past several moons, and I fear I must continue to impose.” Brucemont turned a weary gaze towards the Lord High Commander. “But with this new development, it means…”

“Nidhogg now possibly knows our patrol strings, our supply routes, even the new defenses for the city.” The First Lance answered in a monotone.

“Not to mention who’s sick and who’s in recovery…” Kauchiox continued.

“Basically everything about the Order and whatever information the Azure was privy to on the Temple Knights Nidhogg now knows.” Stephan chimed in.

“And I’m certain you understand very well Lord Commander why we have to keep what’s happened to Ser Wrymblood a secret.” Brucemont finished. Aymeric nodded.

“You are a step ahead of me. However, with that, I fear we must take one back…as I will have to reveal the truth of what my father was doing to the general populace.” He said. Brucemont and the others started in surprise, and Aymeric shook his head.

“There is no choice, considering…” He gazed at the Warrior of Light, who flushed in embarrassment. “The other three High Houses are demanding answers, as well as the Church’s conclave, and my own commanders.” 

“We will deal with anything that arises from the disclosure.” Brucemont said. Aymeric nodded, gesturing to the Warrior of Light.

“We’ll leave you to it.” He said softly. The Warrior of Light bit her lower lip, her eyes flicking over the gathered group.

“..I’m sorry.” She said softly. Bowing her head, she followed Aymeric out of the room, Kauchiox going over to shut the door behind them.

“That godsdamned armor!” Stephen exploded. “Why the hells was he still wearing it?! It should have been destroyed moons ago-”

“He didn’t want to rob any of us or one of the new dragoons of a suit.” Brucemont said, his voice muffled. The quartet turned their heads towards him as one.

“What?” Matthiaos asked.

“If he’d gotten a new set of drachen-mail, it would have robbed one of the first years or one of us. He didn’t want to do that.” Brucemont’s head was in his hands, and his voice was quavering. “So he ordered that he’d be last on the list. I just got a godsdamn notice from the armorsmith this morning that they had started work on his new armor.” Silence filled the room again at the pronouncement, Kauchiox moving over to place a comforting hand on his fellow Dzemael dragoon.

“…I think under the circumstances, recalling everyone might be a good idea.” He said softly. “And maybe…keeping what happened as need to know among us.” Brucemont angled his head to peer up at the Duskwight, eyes red from sheer exhaustion. Dragging in a deep breath, he pushed himself up from the desk.

“If Aymeric’s going public with what happened, everyone needs to be called back anyway.” He said, voice raspy. Stephan narrowed his eyes. “Everyone needs to know. The rest of us, the squires, the students, the teachers…”

“Let that be something we handle.” Illaenne said suddenly. Brucemont looked at her. “We already were the ones who were slowly breaking the news, might as well let us finish.” Stephan’s scowl grew darker and he looked away. “That frees you up for some rest, First Lance, as well as trying to figure out how we can…counteract anything Nidhogg comes with against our defenses.”

“We can’t come up with anything.” Matthiaos said. He sighed, leaning back against the door. “If we start changing everything all over again, it’ll only invite questions and nosing around. I’m assuming we’re just going to say that the Azure’s scouting Dravania…” 

“It’s the best lie.” Brucemont said softly. He closed his eyes, rubbing the palms of his hands against the orbs. “Recall orders. Central and Western Highlands units I want here by tomorrow night. Dravanian units, the following afternoon. Even if the godsdamn second moon drops I want everyone back here. Anyone from the Church comes calling, kick them out, we’ll deal with them later.”

“Ser-“Stephan protested.

“ ** _They will be dealt with later._** ” Brucemont snarled. The High House dragoons involuntary took a step back as dragonfire flashed from the First Lance’s hair. “One bloody thing at a time!”

“We’ll handle it!” Kauchiox said, reaching to grab Stephan and pull him out of the room. Matthaios and Illaenne quickly excused themselves as well, and Brucemont found himself alone. As fast as the anger had appeared, it vanished, and the elezen wearily sank his head into his hands. A migraine was pounding behind his eyes, and if he was truly honest with himself, he wanted to curl up into a ball and weep from sheer exhaustion. 

“Halone, please…” He started to whisper, and then trailed off. Was the goddess even listening? Did she even exist? “Please, please help. This is too much to bear…”


	22. Tension (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the truth of the Dragonsong War made known to the people of Ishgard, the Knights Dragoon now find that they must deal with the same struggles their charges are now experiencing.

The following moon and a half saw an uneasy peace settle over Ishgard.  The truth of the Dragonsong War, along with the actions of the Archbishop and the Heaven’s Ward, went over with the force of an Ixal bomb-balloon with the public.  Now most of Aymeric’s time was spent fighting with the Church’s council and with the High Houses to keep things stable while a new provisional government was formed.  Lucia and Handeloup had their hands full with the Temple Knights, and as for the Knights Dragoon…

 

Brucemont had made his wishes clear.  The Order was to continue as it had before-defending the people of Ishgard from dragon-attack.  It was clear that the Horde was still organized and active, and until it was defeated, there would be nothing else for the Knights Dragoon to ponder.  There would be no debate on the status of the Church…but at the same time, the only actions to be taken against any Dravanians would be against the Horde, and only the Horde.  And when it came to the status of the city, the Knights Dragoon were again, neutral.  However, the pronouncement had not gone over well.  Those in the Order who were faithful to the Church-senior dragoons, squires, even the servants-had complained and tried to pressure Brucemont into revoking the commands.  That had resulted in the First Lance finally cracking under the stress and losing his temper…rather spectacularly. 

 

Nobody had dared voice any opposition afterwards.  It was an informal ceasefire, with either side unwilling to say anything, instead preferring to focus on anything else.  And thankfully there were things to fill the gap…

 

\-----------------------

 

“…Seventeen minutes?”  Matthiaos repeated, staring at Stephan.  “You’re saying Pendragon’s newling managed to fight Dead-Eye for seventeen fucking minutes?!”  Stephan nodded.

“Lucian had to burn a small bit of dragonfire to keep up, and he got a broken rib.”  He said.  “You had to be there to see it.  Suddenly Lucian couldn’t get any hits on him, and when he tried to disable him the first time, Beauregard somehow managed to twist himself about in the air.  Hooked his foot around Lucian’s own and brought them both down together.”  He shook his head.

“Where’s Dead-Eye now?”

“Supervising the punishment detail for the squires who were watching the fight.  He’s going to be on their arses for a few days to reestablish the pecking order.”  Stephan couldn’t help himself, he was snorting with laughter.  “Pendragon’s squire is included, for having the sheer balls to last that long.  Though Lucian’s wanting to corner Pendragon himself and ask more about the boy.”

“He’s already got a squire, he can’t poach.”  Matthiaos said, leaning over in his chair and starting to go through a pile of papers.  “I also had a feeling that one was going to be a late-bloomer.  But godsdamn if the timing isn’t bloody off.  Pendragon’s setting up his drachen-trials, and Beauregard’s going to get flung into a pressure-cooker.”

“Late-bloomers have done trials before and passed…” 

“Aye, but Beauregard’s a mess.  His dragon only started stirring about half a moon past, and you can tell when he fights that he’s holding himself back.”  Matthiaos found what he was looking for, pulling out a leather folio.   “Plus, the damn Inquisition’s poking about and asking about him again, and that’s stress he doesn’t ne…”  Matthiaos trailed off.  Stephan exhaled, pressing his lips together and glancing to the side.

“…They’re only trying to make sure that everything is-”  He began.  Matthiaos's head popped up, and he stared at Stephan.

“Really? You’re going to actually side with a lot of lying, cheating, murdering bastards-”

“Not everything was a lie and you know it!”  Stephan snapped, turning his head back to glare at the Fortemps dragoon. 

“Everything was a fucking lie! How can you…”  Matthiaos forced himself to stop, inhaling sharply.  Out of the four of them, Stephan had been the one to come down solidly on the side of the Church.  It had been an unspoken agreement that anything Church/Dragonsong War related was to be avoided like the plague, because the last thing needed was for the High House Dragoons to show any sign of discord.  And for his sake, Matthiaos had been trying his best not to poke the dragon, so to speak.  But it was frustrating, oh so frustrating to watch his brother in arms, a man that he’d fought with, bled with, mourned with, been though the seven Hells with-blindly swallow what clearly was lies and treachery, insist that they were truth, and make excuses for dishonorable behaviors.  Stephan's body was now tense as he looked at his fellow dragoon, though his voice was glacial as he continued to speak.  

“If he’s not done anything wrong, he doesn’t have any reason to be concerned-”

“That’s a crock of shite and you know it!”  Matthiaos exploded out of his seat, eyes flashing.  “Where does it say that Halone approved of an eight-year-old boy getting dragged to the Inquistion’s dungeons?! Where does it say that she approved of families being punished and destroyed for the sins of one member?!  Where does it say she wants them to be dogged all their life for crimes that weren’t their own?”  The words were spilling out now, the dam breached.  Stephan had shot to his feet as well, glaring back at Matthiaos but the Fortemps dragoon didn’t care. 

“Tell me how Halone can welcome us into her halls if we die in honorable death, but for the mother who died in childbirth she’s not welcome?!  Or the father who froze to death trying to bring food back to his family?  Or the orphan who dies of illness in the Brume? How are they less worthy in Halone’s eyes than us, than the nobles, or the fucking priesthood?!  Or what if we don’t die of honorable death? What if we’re able to die old, in our beds, surrounded by loved ones?  How does that exempt us from her glory?  Go on, justify it to me!  Tell me!” 

“Matthiaos, stop!”  A cry jolted Matthiaos out of his rage-induced haze, and he looked up towards the door.  Illeanne and Kauchiox were standing there, and behind them were several wide-eyed junior dragoons and servants.  Throat suddenly dry, Matthiaos glanced back to Stephan.  The Hyur’s skin was mottled in rage, his fists clenched.  Pure venom was in his eyes as he glared at Matthiaos, and without a word he spun on a heel and made for the open door.  The sea of bodies parted as he passed, and a heavy silence filled the air.  With a sigh Matthiaos sank back into his chair, covering his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm bacck. Haven't meant to be away for this long, but IRL...a lot of problems cropped up. And dealing with some major stuff still. Anyway.
> 
> Pretty much starting to head into the final stretch with this fic, which means there's going to be a considerable amount more theorycraft. I'm playing fast and free with the technical 'timeline' of what went down, as the events of HW/post-HW I feel occurred over a span of months to a year. IMO at max I feel HW took place over a two-year timespan, and not the 'one/bumrush from hell' that SE uses. 
> 
> I also very, very strongly feel that the Knights Dragoon were affected by Aymeric's revelations to the public and his initial attempt to get Ishgard to a ceasefire/peace with the Dravanians. The next chapter (or two, haven't figured that out yet) deal with patch 3.1, which introduced the Brothers of the Faith. Given how deeply ingrained the Orthodoxy was in Ishgard, I've always found it odd that the Brothers of the Faith seemed to be restricted ingame to what appeared to be the Vault's arm of the Temple Knights/more militant faction of the Inquisition [or possibly a private army]. 
> 
> There's also mention of Halonic belief in this chapter, and I post the disclaimer now that this is based on my own experiences questing, there is the very real possibility I may be missing some information. That said, from my playthough, it seems to be given lore that only those who die in honorable combat are admitted into Halone's halls. There is a sidequest that -centers- around you lying to a father stationed at Camp Dragonhead about how his son has died, telling him that his son died fighting so he has the belief that his child was admitted to the halls of the Fury. 
> 
> Now if you look at what's written in the lorebook for the Heaven of Ice, it goes 'epic heroes and gallant knights, the benevolent and the faithful'. Yet that never seems to come up in game. If you've done the Scholasticate quests via Hildabrand, you learn that teachings that promote equality among Halonic's children more or less have been suppressed. A leve-quest makes note that while it is generally accepted for women to take up weapons and defend Ishgard in the name of the Fury, the scripture seems more biased towards noble-blooded women who daintily stay at home and keep house. Which is strange, considering a goddess of war would be more accepting/have more honor showered upon the women who take up weapons to fight for their home. A lot of inaccuracies rear their heads in Halonic doctrine if you know where to look, and that was my basis for Matthiaos' rant.)
> 
> [side note: I have a Tumblr for XIV and another for my writing, if anyone's interested in seeing more theorycraft/ffxiv shitposting/other writing!]
> 
> scrollsfromarebornrealm: xiv  
> crazyscotwithapen: other writing


	23. Lost (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two dragoons begin to consider for what is for the Order, unthinkable...the elimination of Estinien Wrymblood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Something short and sweet. Takes place before the Warrior of Light leaves for Anyx Trine with Lucia. I think it's reasonable to assume that the Knights Dragoon would have been trying to come up with a way to fight Estinien. Also recently, lore was released that said the effects of drinking dragon-blood and turning into a dragon could be reversed initially...by beating the shit out of the drinker. 
> 
> As for the Knights Dragoon turning into dragons, well... *gestures to Estinien* While any Ishgardian who had ancestry from the Knights Twelve can turn after drinking dragon-blood, I feel that dragoons could run a high risk of possibly turning due to their high exposure to dragon-aether/perhaps drinking dragon-blood. Another set of factors [and ones that have come up in roleplay that I've experienced] could also be extremely high stress levels, depression, PSTD, even suicidal motives. Now if the dragoon in question is able to keep his mind after he turns dragon, well... *shrug*
> 
> Also if you like my writing and theorycraft, I've more where it came from!
> 
> scrollsfromarebornrealm.tumblr.com (XIV theorycraft and posts)  
> crazyscotwithapen.tumblr.com (other writing)
> 
>  
> 
> \---------------------------

                Kauchiox headed towards Brucemont’s office, carrying a wrapped cloth bundle.  As he came closer to the door, it opened to reveal the Warrior of Light.  Surprised, the Duskwight stopped, offering a bow to the small hyuran woman as she passed.  The Warrior nodded, a pensive look on her face as she passed.  Kauchoix straightened, watching her leave.  Going over to the door, he turned the handle.

                “Brucemont?”  Kauchiox winced as his fellow House Dzemael dragoon looked up.  Brucemont looked as if he’d been dragged over the Holy See’s rooftops. 

                “Kauchiox? Ah shite, did I have a meeting or…”

                “No, no.”  Kauchiox said quickly.  He set down the wrapped bundle on the First Lance’s desk. “I wanted to bring you something hot to eat.  I know you haven’t had a decent meal for a while.”  Brucemont blinked in surprise.

                “I…”

                “Just eat first.  I’ll get you some drink.”  Not giving his fellow dragoon a chance to argue, Kauchiox went over to the nearby side table, uncorking a jug.  The rustling of fabric told him that Brucemont was obeying, and the white-haired Duskwright poured out two glasses of cider.  Coming back over, he set one glass in front of Brucemont, taking a seat in front of the desk.  For a while there were no sounds other than the clink of cutlery, and soon Brucemont leaned back in his chair.  He closed his eyes.

                “…I needed that.”  He said softly.  Kauchiox didn’t reply, swallowing another mouthful of cider. 

                “Everyone’s…settled, for now.”  He said.  “But I can’t promise you it’ll last long.”

                “Matthiaos and Stephen?”

                “Neutral ground.  Anything else…” Kauchoix trailed off, his eyes meeting the other dragoon’s own.  Brucemont nodded, looking down at his desk.

                “…I requested the Warrior of Light’s aid.”  He said softly.  “For…Estinien.  That…is going to be a fight that we cannot win unless we have her assistance.  And…”  He stopped, closing his eyes.  “I don’t know if we can even turn him back.  It is one thing when one of us falls and turns, but Estinien is on an entirely different level.”  Kauchiox nodded.

                “It…also doesn’t help that we’ve not had such an incident in a while.”  He said.  Out of all Ishgard, dragoons were the ones who were the most susceptible to turning, by the drachen mail and the awakened dragon inside of them.  It had happened in the Order, and such events were kept secret on pain of death.  There was only one way to reverse such a transformation, and it was to engage the newly turned in battle.  Inflict enough harm and the dragon-aether would burn itself out, allowing the victim to return to normal.  However, there was a time limit to render aid, and once it had expired, the transformation was permanent.  “The last time such events happened was back when Alberic was Azure.  Haillenarte and Fortemps.”

                “The Haillenarte one died.”  Brucemont mused.  “But the Fortemps…”

                “You would be better speaking to Matthiaos on that.”  Kauchoix said.  “But I can say that he and a select few dragoons of that House have a…friendly ally of sorts.”  Lacing his fingers together, he leaned forward.  “That aside, Wrymblood was the most powerful one among us, even before the Eye chose him.  With two of the damn things and even with the Warrior of Light helping, the fight may not go in our favor.  Hells, the only thing working for us right now is the fact that Nidhogg’s keeping to the Aery.”

                “Which is something I’m afraid could change.”  Brucemont resisted the urge to twist his fingers.  “At any moment we could see him recall the Horde and lead it against the city.  Before that happens, we have to do something.”  Kauchiox’s eyes narrowed.

                “You want to engage him in his lair?”

                “It’s something I’m considering.”  Brucemont answered. “Otherwise…he could come to the city.  And if that happens…”  He trailed off.  Kauchiox’s lips pressed into a thin line. 

                “If he comes here, we’re all as good as dead.”


	24. Lost (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers of the True Faith make their first move.

               Brucemont lay unmoving on the bed.  His armor had been removed-he was clad only in his undershirt and pants, revealing the network of scars that were across his arms, what was visible of his chest, and legs.  A nurse tucked him in, giggling as the First Lance’s mouth opened and a snore came out.  Kauchiox exhaled, his shoulders sagging.

                “I owe you one, Mathye.” 

                “You don’t owe me anything, I’m sticking around for the show when he wakes up and finds out what happened.”  The black-haired hyur limped over, the skirts of his robe rustling.  “Your arse is grass…or maybe not.  I was about to do the same thing, only he would have gotten the business end of my cane.  Maybe when he wakes up, he’ll have his wits about him.”  Kauchoix chuckled, turning his attention to the ex-dragoon.

                “How did you find a sedative anyway that wouldn’t set him and his dragon off?”  He asked, curious. 

                “I didn’t. Both of them are so exhausted that they wouldn’t have been able to pick up what was in the wine.”  Mathye gestured.  “While you’ve got him in my area of the infirmary, I might as well give him a full checkup and see what I can do to get him somewhat fully functional when he wakes up.  Who’s running the shite show?”

                “Us four.”  Kauchiox replied.  “With how…well, things have been somewhat quiet, we can at least get away with this.”

                “You sure about that, considering Stephan’s going full-fledged zealot?”

                “He’s not done that!”  Kauchoix defended the Durendaire dragoon, and then sighed. “At least…I don’t think.  We haven’t touched that area of discussion.”

                “I think you’re past the need to touch.”  Mathye said dryly, moving closer to Brucemont and leaning over the prone elezen.  “That shite needs to get settled, because you need to know where his arse is with the program.  Right now all its doing is festering, and when that happens, it’s going to bleed out in places you didn’t want it to go.  Look at what’s going on with the clergy and the Scholasticate now.”  Kauchiox crossed his arms.

                “Is it really that bad?”  Mathye snorted, reaching over for a small light crystal and activating it.

                “I don’t mind the priests that needed an arsekicking getting it in the streets.  That, I’m fucking with.  Hell, Halone probably approves of it.  But there’s the sort that honestly were trying to help the poor, honor their vows, all that.”  He opened one of Brucemont’s eyes, shining the light on it.  “Then there’s the students.  Some of them have been coming here for their hurts.  I don’t hold with attacking children.”  Kauchiox exhaled.

                “Halone damn it.”  He muttered.  Mathye frowned, closing the eye and opening the other one.  Closing it, he deactivated the crystal and reached for one of Brucemont’s wrists, wrapping his fingers around it.  A low pulse of aether spread from his grip and into the elezen’s skin, bringing the veins of the arm into view with a shimmer of blue-green.

                “…He’s going to have to go on medical potions for several days.  And you lot are going to have to bully him into a normal work schedule.”  Kauchiox watched him.  “His aether’s low, and so is Bastien’s.”  Bastien was the name Brucemont had given to his inner dragon.  “You’re lucky there’s no fighting.  The moment he would have attempted a jump, that would have burned what they have left and then he’d have been even worse.”  With a sigh, Mathye released Brucemont’s wrist, the aether fading. 

                “How strong can you make the potions?”  Kauchiox didn’t flinch from the glare the healer shot him.  “I have to ask, you know this!”  Mathye gave the Duskwright a dirty look, and then exhaled gustily.

                “If needed, I can give over an instant rejuvenation potion.  The ‘clean’ one, not the ‘dirty’.  It’d get him on his feet and keep him running for about twenty hours.”

                “And the ‘dirty’ one?”  Kauchiox asked.  ‘Dirty’ was code for dragon’s blood. 

                “Two days, but Bastien would start acting up.  Brucemont’s in no shape to help his dragon work though that shite.”  Mathye grimaced, shifting his weight to his left leg.  “He’ll have two days of a weak potion, then upgrade to a slightly stronger formula for another four.  Combined with making sure he sleeps every night or at least gets a few hours of unconsciousness and some decent meals, which should be enough-aggh!”  An explosion of noise had erupted from his linkpearl, and Mathye put a hand to his ear.

                “What the fuck is…”  He trailed off, his eyes widening.  Kauchoix watched as the healer’s skin paled in shock-before Mathye snapped to full professionalism, looking at him.

                “Get out.”

                “What?”

                “Get out, get out, we need the ward-get, get!”  Mathye snarled.  Leg forgotten, he pushed at Kauchoix. “Get on the line to the others!  There’s been an assassination attempt on the Lord High Commander!”

                “ ** _What?!_** ”  Kauchiox was already moving, lifting a hand to his ear as Mathye barreled past him.  The doors to the ward slammed open, and staggering though were two Temple Knights.  In-between them, white as a sheet was Aymeric himself, sagging.  A knife was sticking out of his stomach, blood trickling from his midsection and down over his armor, staining the floor.  Then he vanished from view as Mathye and several other healers swarmed the trio, and Kauchiox heard his name being screamed over the pearl.

                _Kauchiox! Kauchoix! Come in! Respond, damn you!_

                “Illeanne-I’m in the infirmary!  The Lord High Commander, he’s-”

 _There’s a fire in the Brume!_ The Dzemael dragoon froze.  _Haldrath’s Way!  All the residences there-they just lit up-_

                “I’m coming now! Get everyone on that patrol string to start rescue, and call in the squires and those off-duty to head to the snow-melt pools!”  Kauchiox broke the connection, looking at the swarming medics.

                “Fire in the Brume!”  He bellowed.  Half the medics froze, whipping around to stare at him in shock.  “I just got the call, Haldrath’s Way, all the homes there are alight!”  Again the infirmary exploded into action, healers and nurses rushing to grab burn supplies and to prepare beds.  Aymeric could be seen being carried into another room, Count Fortemps following close behind while the Temple Knights who had come immediately took up guard posts outside the door.  Mathye was bellowing, gesturing and snapping out orders while he grabbed a medical kit, and Kauchiox made for the door, calling Illeanne back over the pearl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So a bit of a long post here. First off, once again I'm taking liberties with time-spreading out the events of Aymeric's attempted assassination, the Brume Fire, and eventually the Vault's takeover. Second, this chapter brings up a major theorycraft I had regarding dragoons and their inner dragons. 
> 
> I've seen friends of mine theorize-and I myself- that the inner dragon of a dragoon is actually a separate and active being. They can either be bound to the dragoon soulstone and more or less 'join' with the bearer, or they're the manifestation of the Ishgardian dragon-curse, twisted to be bound with the dragoon for the rest of their natural lives due to the Knight Dragoon training/any initiation rites/drachen mail or even the ingestion of dragon-blood. Given the Dragoon LB3 and Mirage Dive, the inner dragon can physically manifest as an aetherical creature, but otherwise communicates with their dragoon/other dragons via mental communication. A dragoon can draw upon the inner dragon's aether for power, and the dragon can draw upon the dragoon's aether to sustain itself. 
> 
> Given then, that a dragoon has another personality living in their head, I figured that you would have some dragoons and inner dragons who are able to co-exist peacefully, naming their inner dragons and generally able to manage the curse. Then you would have some who haven't been able to get on, which could lead to either the inner dragon managing to take over and the dragoon turning into a dragon, or the dragoon trying to separate themselves from the inner dragon by...any means you can possibly imagine. Then at the end of everything, you have the squires who are about to take on their drachen-mail trials, some of whom might be dealing with slowly-awakening inner dragons, while others are being prepared to accept a dragon into them if the dragon is passed down via soulstone.
> 
>  
> 
> One last note: Given snow everywhere in Ishgard, the idea of melting it and using it for potential fire-fighting could be something that's done.)
> 
> Also if you like my writing and theorycraft, I've more where it came from!
> 
> scrollsfromarebornrealm.tumblr.com (XIV theorycraft and posts)  
> crazyscotwithapen.tumblr.com (other writing)


	25. Lost (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Aymeric's near-assassination, and the city fires, there's a brief respite...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Not a lot for this one. But expect things to hit the fan next chapter...)

_Potter’s Path is on fire!_

_Fire’s out at Red Rose, but there’s another one at the water-wells!_

_Get everyone you can to the orphanage on Silver Road!  The fire’s heading for it and the children haven’t all been evacuated yet!_

_We have squires overcome from smoke inhalation-_

_Infirmary’s filled to the maximum capacity!  Direct any injured to the Fortemps and Durendaire holdings!_

_There’s another fire at the boarding-houses right on the edge of the Old City!  Halone help us, there’s people trapped inside!_

Hours later, the linkpearls were finally silent.  The fires in the Brume were finally out, and the weary Knight Dragoons sought shelter back within their headquarters.  The High House Dragoons gathered in Brucemont’s office, and with a weary sigh, Matthiaos dropped onto the First Lance’s chair.

                “One of the very few, few times I am actually grateful that we’re in the First Hell…”  He muttered, then coughed.

                “Does anyone know the damage?”  Kauchoix asked, his voice raspy.

                “Total loss for several sectors of the Brume, a quarter of the merchant row over by the aetheryte, and some residences near the Congregation got hit.  Plus, a section of the Croizer’s nothing but cinders now.”  Matthiaos coughed, and then continued.  “Nobody knows the number of homeless…or dead, yet.  Any word on the Lord High Commander?”

                “He’s expected to make a full recovery.  The Warrior of Light’s still not back, though.”  Illaenne said, wincing as she flexed the fingers of her bandaged right hand.  She looked over to Stephen, frowning.  The hyuran dragoon was rather pale and looked as if he was lost in his own world.

                “Stephan?  Stephan.” 

                “Huh? What?  Oh!”  Stephan snapped into full awareness, shaking his head.  “Sorry.  Tired.”  Illeanne frowned.  For several moments there, the look on Stephan’s face hadn’t been one of distraction, it had been of guilt. 

                “Did something happen with your fire-team?”  She asked.

                “Some have family members in the Brume.”  Stephan replied. 

                _Lying._   A hiss flicked though Illeanne’s mind.  _He is lying._

                _Maybe something did happen, and he’s not ready to speak of it yet._   Illeanne thought.  Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to press.  Tensions were still high between the four of them.  “Does anyone know at least what caused the initial fire?”

                “Arson.”  The word fell into the air like a bomb.  Kauchiox and Illeanne’s heads whipped up towards Matthiaos.  “Think back on the linkpearl calls.  It’s a blur, but as soon as we seemingly got one fire down, another popped up to take its place…”

                “Arson?”  Illaenne echoed, shock on her features. 

                “More than that.”  Kauchiox said, his eyes narrowing.  “This was an attack.  First the Lord High Commander, and then suddenly fires break out?  That’s no coincidence.” 

                “But who would want to do such a thing?”  Illeanne asked.  “The ceasefire with the Dravanians is holding, as is with Iceheart’s people.”

                “I don't know.”  Matthiaos coughed again, and then lurched up. “I’m joining the line in the infirmary for this cough.”

                “Aye, you sound dreadful.”  Kauchiox said.  He glanced over at Stephan.  “Are you alright?  You haven’t contributed much to the discussion…”

                “I was just thinking over the string-assignments.”  Stephan answered quickly.  “We’re going to have some gaps on city defense because nearly all of them were on fire-fight duty.  They need breaks, time to sleep this off, get treatment…”

                “Fuck.”  Matthiaos groaned.  “He’s right.  And if this was an attack, we need everyone to be back on their posts as fast as possible.”  He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.  “We need Brucemont, damn it all to the hells.”  Illeanne bit her lower lip, thinking.

                “First off, let’s send out an order.  Anyone who was on firefight duty, no questions, they need to turn in and get some rest now.  Those who weren’t on duty, assign them to watch the more critical areas of the patrol-net.”  She said.  “After that, Brucemont should be awake, updated, and we can go from there about what should be done next.  Matthaios, do you know if the Temple Knights started an investigation yet?”

                “No, but the First Sword’s probably getting one up and going as we speak.”

                “I’ll get in touch with her before I turn in.  Kauchiox, I assume you’re going to get Brucemont out of the infirmary?”

                “I’ll get Bishop to talk to him.”  The Dzemael dragoon answered.  “Though how we can summarize this mess, I have no idea…” He trailed off.  Illeanne reached over, rubbing his back.

                “Let’s do what we need to do.”  She said gently.  “A quick few hours of sleep, and a more lucid Brucemont can help us from there.”  Off to the side, Stephan had turned his head towards the office window.  In the distance, smoke still could be seen rising into the sky.

`


	26. Implosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers of the True Faith not only strike at the Vault, but at the Order as well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I've not written action scenes in a long time, and I'm in the midst of a cross-country move right now, so I apologize if this chapter didn't come out well. >.<
> 
> I also found it strange that the Brothers of the True Faith seemed to be just restricted only to the Vault. Given that in the following patch, Aymeric speaks of limiting their influence, so I decided to go with the idea that when the Vault was attacked, there was a possible attempt at taking over the Temple Knights and the Knights Dragoon. Given this point in the game and the lore, it would make sense that there would have been an attempted takeover of the military as well in addition to the government.)
> 
> \------------

To say that Brucemont was livid after waking up from an enforced (and badly needed nap) was an understatement.  He first attempted to take his wrath out on Mathye, but tangling with a combat medic never ended well, especially with Mathye.  The ex-dragoon had never lost his taste for a fight, even as a healer.  Lucian and another trainer were called upon to grab the First Lance and whisk him away before he ended up back in a medical bed.

                The First Lance’s next target was his fellow Dzemael dragoon, Kauchiox.  However, forewarned by the ever-active gossip-mill in the Congregation, Kauchiox had made a tactical retreat to the kitchens.  It was a sacrosanct rule that one never started any trouble of any sort in the kitchens.  If you did, the main cook for the Knights-Dragoon, a small hyuran man who went by the name of Gaétan, would kill you.  Robbed of his prey…or rather, not wanting to die or eat shite food, Brucemont was forced to listen to Kauchiox’s explanation, all the while making mental notes on how to kill the other elezen and dispose of his body.  But he had to admit, the High House Dragoons had done a good job during his enforced absence, even more so considering that when it came to both the assassination and arson investigations, the Order really couldn’t offer anything in the way of help.  Then when Gaétan advanced on the two elezen with a meat cleaver, a mutual decision was made to retreat.

                And then for several days, it was calm.  The Warrior of Light returned to the city, helping her fellow Scions find one of the arsonists who had started the fires in the Brume.  Aymeric issued orders from his sickbed for the Church to take in and house those who had their homes destroyed.  It was expected for the Lord High Commander to resume his duties as soon as his wounds had healed, but in the court of public opinion he and House Fortemps were taking a battering.  Support for the ceasefire with the Dravanians was at best lukewarm, and many Ishgardians who had lost loved ones to the dragons were railing for fighting to resume.  Brucemont once again was forced to reiterate his stance-that the Knights Dragoon were respecting the ceasefire, their attention was on Nidhogg and his minions, and when it came to the internal affairs of the city, they were strictly neutral.  This resulted in public scorn being turned towards the Order as well, which Brucemont refused to acknowledge.  But on an informal level, orders had been quietly given for Aymeric to have a dragoon-patrol trailing his steps outside of the Congregation whenever he returned to duty.  A team was also being put together to approach the dragons of Anyx Trine, to discuss a possible alliance to fight against Nidhogg.

                Then one afternoon…

 

\------

 

                Louis Bernard had just survived his first year as a dragoon, and actions taken in a battle before the ceasefire with the Dravanians had garnered him the attention of a Haillenarte vassal House.  To be adopted into a noble family would bring him a long way from his beginnings in the Brume.  Adding to his internal delight, his sweetheart had accepted his betrothal bracelet some days before.  Humming a wedding theme, the elezen stopped in front of his locker and began to undress.  Hearing footsteps, he turned his head.

                “Ah, did they pull you in for duty as well?”  The smile on his face started to fade, and Louis looked down at the dagger embedded in his chest.  Suddenly he was starting to feel very cold, and he looked at the other person in the locker room with him.

                “S…sir?”

                “I’m sorry, my son.”  The voice of his former teacher sounded distant, and Louis crumpled to the ground.  “You were one of my best students.  But you shouldn’t have turned from Her.”  Louis swallowed, trying to focus his gaze.  But everything was starting to blur, and his mind was filling with images of his sweetheart-he could even smell the rose-water that she would wear.  And instead of being cold, he was oh so very warm now…  His eyes closed as a red pool started to spread out from beneath him, staining the locker-room floor.

 

 

                Illeanne froze at the entrance to the armory.  For some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt as if the hair on the back of her neck was standing up.  Lowering her hand, she turned around and surveyed the hallway, putting a hand to her right ear.

                “Lucian?”  Silence.  “Lucian, you there?”  Again, no response.  Illeanne lowered her hand, exhaling. 

                < _Watch out! >_ The draconic hiss had Illaenne tensing and jumping back, just as a sword sliced through the air where she’d been standing.  Spinning around, she met the eyes of one of the servants, whose face was contorted in rage.

                “Die, traitor!”  He swung out with the blade again, and Ilaenne ducked.  Coming up, she seized the man’s wrist and twisted.  Bones snapped, and the sword clattered harmlessly to the ground.  With a snarl, Illeanne kneed the man as hard as she could in the solar plexus, and then twisted his arm about him and pinned him to the ground.

                “What’s the meaning of this?!”  She snapped.

                “You treacherous bitch!  Halone will judge you-aah!!!”  Illeanne twisted the arm further, glaring.

                “What do you mean?”

                _Illaenne!  Illaenne!_   The elezen lifted her head, hearing Lucian’s voice over the linkpearl.  _Illeanne!_

                _Lilith, get that for me?_   An electrical tingle crawled over Illeanne’s right cheek.  “Lucian?”

                _Illaenne, thank Halone!  Are you alright?_

                “I’m fine, but you need to send guards to the armory as soon as you can!  I had somebody try to attack me!”

                _You’re not the only one!_   Illaenne’s eyes widened.  _Some of the students just turned on me and the others in the class-we’re fine now, but it was almost a close thing._  

                “What?”

                _We heard fighting breaking out just above us and saw it in the courtyard.  I think somebody’s trying to pull a mutiny!_   Illeanne looked down at her captive.

                “Who’s in charge?!”  She demanded.

                “Fuck you, you Dravanian-loving whore!”  Illeanne’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned down towards the man.

                “Do you want to repeat that?”  She asked, her voice deepening into a growl.

 

               

                Brucemont looked up as another dragoon rushed into his office, dropping into a defensive stance with his spear.  At his feet, a first-year dragoon groaned, curling up into a ball.

                “Friend or foe?!”  He snapped.

                “Friend!  I have orders to get you from Matthiaos!”  Brucemont didn’t say anything, narrowing his eyes.

                _Bastien?_

 _ <He’s okay_.>  Brucemont nodded, relaxing ever so slightly.

                “What the seven hells is going on?”  He snapped.

                “It’s a mutiny for us-but I think part of an overall coup.  An armed group called the Brothers of the True Faith have taken over the Vault and are holding the refugees from the fires hostage.  Ser Aymeric’s gone there himself but the moment he left, us and the Temple Knights found ourselves fighting our kin-apparently they were here as well!”  Brucemont felt his blood run cold, and Bastien snarled in his thoughts.

                _< Traitors and kin-slayers!>_

                “What do they want?”  The words escaped Brucemont’s lips-even though he knew what the answer was going to be.

                “The return of the Orthodoxy to power.  They believe Aymeric murdered the Archbishop and the Heaven’s Ward with the Warrior of Light’s help, and to resume the war with the Dravanians.”  Brucemont closed his eyes, feeling betrayal and rage boil up inside him.  His grip on the spear wavered, and he opened his eyes to look at the prone body at his feet.

                “Our spears are for the people of Ishgard.”  He hissed, unable to keep his voice from twisting into a growl, Bastien’s anger merging with his own.  “The _people_. _**Not**_ the priesthood.  _**Not** _ the nobility.”  The man at his feet coughed, turning a bitter gaze up towards the elezen.

                “Halone-”

                “ _ **Fuck Halone!**_ ”  Brucemont snarled.  His and Bastien’s combined rage was giving him strength, and he reached down to grab the younger dragoon by the neck, lifting him up in a chokehold.  Alarmed, his rescuer rushed over to try and break his grip, but Brucemont held fast, pulling his arm in so he could stare his attacker in the eye.

                “When I am through with you-all of you, every single traitor, you will never be able to call this city-nay, Coerthas your home ever again.”  He hissed, eyes gleaming.  “You all will be exiles.  The lowest of the Brume will be even higher than you!”  With that, he slammed the first-year onto his desk.

 

\-------------

 

                On the rooftop of one of the Vault outbuildings, a tense standoff was taking place.  Kauchoix and Matthaios’s partner Jeannoix were staring down Stephan, who was holding a prone Matthaios hostage with the tip of his Gale Bog pointed at his face.  The bodies of two other unconscious dragoons lay nearby.  Both elezen were barely holding back their rage at their kin’s betrayal-dragonfire sparking off Kauchoix, and low growls coming from Jeannoix.  Matthiaos was lying face up, his helm broken, the tip of the spear just barely above his right eye.  Stephan was pale beneath his armor’s helm, and he swallowed thickly.

                “Don’t make me do it.”  He said, voice quavering.  “Please.  Just lay down your arms and come quietly.  We have the Order, the Congregation…”

                “Fuck you, traitor!”  Jeannoix spat.  “Let him go and I’ll at least give you a clean death!” 

                “Stephen.”  Matthiaos’ voice was quiet.  “Why, brother?”

                “Because somebody has to restore order!  All this-ever since **_she_** came to Ishgard, everything’s gone wrong!  This wasn’t the will of Halone!  We are supposed to fight the Dravanians and defeat them, not break bread with them!”  Stephan’s voice broke, but his hands were still steady on the spear.  “Have you all forgotten what they’ve done to us?  Kauchoix, you lost your brother!  I lost my parents-my entire family!  And you’re just willing to spit on their graves and make nice with the enemy?!”

                “Do you honestly think I don’t have problems with this?”  Kauchoix’s voice was distorted, his dragoon bleeding though.  “I do.  Halone knows I do.  But at the same time, look at us, look at what our city was?  Did you think, with everything we had gone though, everything we had seen, we were ever going to win?!  How many of us die in glorious battles that ultimately mean nothing?  How many of us fled to Iceheart’s people just because life among _us_ was shite?”

                “Halone’s will is…”  The scream of a woman made Stephan trail off.  As one, everyone’s heads turned.  A red and white-clad form thrust out a smaller, wriggling one over the railing of the Vault’s roof.  Kauchoix felt his heart stop, and dimly he heard a strangled gasp from Jeannoix.

               _That’s…that’s a priest…_ His mind tried to make sense of what was before him, even as his body was preparing for action.  But before he could even move, the small form started to fall.  Horror iced though Kauchoix, and dimly he could hear a scuffle-Matthaios seizing a chance to break free from Stephan.  A flash of color out of the corner of his eye-Jeannoix had jumped, intending to try and help, but that little body was falling far too fast, and Jeannoix was too far-

 

                The next several moments were a blur.  One moment, he saw the small figure falling-and then the next, she wasn’t there-but something else was.  A large, muscular frame, white wings and a long tail- Kauchoix felt his heart leap into his throat, and he stared uncomprehending at what was circling in the sky.

                _A dragon._ And as he watched it come in for a landing, he could see something else…that tiny body, safe and secure.

                “Kauchoix!”

                “Did you just…did you just see…”  Kauchoix shook his head, forcing himself to snap back to the present.  “Matthaios!”

                “I’m alright.”  The half-elezen was grim, a long bloody gash beneath his right eye. On his knees in front of him was Stephan, who was staring at the Vault rooftop where the priest had been.  “Brucemont’s calling over the pearl.  He and the others managed to regain the Congregation, and it sounds as if the Vault’s been secured.  We’ve stopped the attack.”  Kauchoix nodded, his gaze dropping to Stephan.  The hyur’s skin was pale, pupils dilated with shock.

                “That…that was…”  He looked at the two elezen, and then bowed his head.  Kauchoix swallowed, turning his attention to Matthaios.

                “Call for reinforcements.”  He said.  “We need to get back.”


	27. Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the face of being broken, the Knights-Dragoon rally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Just going to leave this here... *slides over to corner* Nothing but pure theory for this chapter. I beg your indulgence.)
> 
> \----------

                It was a grim assembly that gathered in the main Knight-Dragoon meeting hall.  Bound and held at spearpoint were the instigators of the attempted mutiny.  Lying on a bier not too far away was the body of Louis, covered with a white cloth.  His patrol partner was being held tightly by a fellow first year, hot tears spilling down his face as he glared at one of the prisoners, a elezen in gold drachen-mail.  Not far away from the elezen was Stephan, his head bowed.  Matthiaos was standing behind him, swallowing thickly as he kept his Gale Bog pointed at the hyur’s back.  A battered Brucemont faced the room, flanked by Lucian and Celeste.

                “…Your attempt to take over the city has failed.”  He wanted to scream.  He wanted to howl.  He and Bastien wanted to fall upon the traitors and decorate the room with their blood.  “What remains of your leaders today are currently enjoying the hospitality of the Temple Knight interrogators.”  How was it that his voice was so calm?  Couldn’t anyone hear his screams?  Brucemont lifted his gaze towards the bier.

                _He just passed his first year three suns ago…_

                “You are liars, traitors, and child-murderers.”  The blue haired elezen stalked towards the bier.  Snatching off the white cloth, he spun about on a heel and threw it at the gold-armored dragoon, who flinched.  “He was a child, compared to us!  And another one nearly lost her life today!  She would have joined those innocents who died when your fellows set the fires in the Brume!  And for what?  Halone’s name?!  You think our goddess demands the blood of children for a holy crusade?!  The death of the men and women that our spears, our lives are sworn to protect?!”  The room was deathly silent.   “Did you forget your knightly oaths, the promises you swore when you joined us?!  We do not fight for the nobles, we do not fight for the Church-we fight for the common man and woman!  Those among us who cannot lift a weapon in their defense-it is for them that we bleed and suffer, even sacrificing our sanity!” Brucemont stopped, trying to collect himself. 

                “…I thought that we could be above this.”  He began.  “It is not our place to be drawn into the affairs of theology or of politics.  We have had much put upon us, but we have continued to rise above it…”  He trailed off, closing his eyes.  “But perhaps this is our breaking point.”  Now a ripple of sound snaked though the room.  The blue-haired elezen opened his eyes.

                “I will leave now to tell Louis’ mother of his death.  All of you…”  He let his gaze roam.  “Have the night to think long and hard on what it is that you truly want.  At daybreak, if you still wish to fight, to continue to honor the vows that you have taken or wish to take, I expect you to meet me here.  But if no-one comes, I will take that as a sign that it is long past our time, and I will report to Ser Aymeric that the Knights Dragoon will be disbanding.”  Horrified gasps, but Brucemont made himself turn away, heading for the door. 

 

\-------

 

                Hours later, Brucemont returned to the Congregation.  The Knight-Dragoon area was dark, and nobody waylaid him as he made his way towards the small chapel to Halone that served as the Order’s main place of worship.  The sacred space was dark save for the light of a few small candles, and a lingering note of incense was still in the air.  As he approached the statue, Brucemont fell to his knees.  Emotions boiled inside him-grief, sorrow, pain, rage-he hurt so badly that he couldn’t even breathe, couldn’t think.  He wanted to scream, but couldn’t, and he could feel the same tangled mess of emotions bleeding into him from Bastien.  With a moan he leaned forward until his head was resting on the stone floor.  Hot tears began to trickle down his cheeks, and his entire body started to shake from the force of his sobs.  A high-pitched wail joined in-Bastien, crying out his own grief in the only way he could. 

                _I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t know what to do anymore…_   Brucemont sobbed, his fingers curling into fists.  _I’ve tried everything, I don’t know what to do anymore._

                “I don’t even know if I can pray to you anymore.”  His voice cracked.  “I don’t know how to see, how to think.  My brothers and sisters flounder under me, and I may be the reason why our order falls.”  His breath hitched.  “I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know what to do!”  Brucemont looked up to the statue, eyes bloodshot.

                “Give me direction!  Give me guidance!  Give me something!”  He screamed, and then crumpled to the floor as exhaustion overtook him.  “Please…”

                _Please…_

 

\---------

 

                “Ah hells.  He is going to feel that when he’s more awake.”

                “Well that’s what he gets for falling asleep on the floor like that.”  Brucemont slowly opened one eye.  He recognized the voices…  “But I suppose it can’t be helped.  Get everyone in here, will you?”

                “You want them to see him like this?!”

                “Hey, better to do it now before people get fucking cold feet, aye?”  Footsteps, and then Brucemont felt himself being shaken.

                “Hey fearless leader.  You want to get up now?” 

                “Ma…Matthaios?”  Brucemont swallowed, his lips were dry, and his throat felt like sandpaper.  He cracked open one eye-aye, it was the Fortemps dragoon in the flesh.  “What…”

                “You said daybreak, remember?  When you didn’t arrive, we got worried.”  With a groan, Brucemont pushed himself up into a sitting position.  “Though Lucian’s…oh hey, that was fast.”

                “What?”  Brucemont started as two sets of hands took him by the arms, helping him to his feet.

                “Some of us have patrols, you know.”  Coldfire said to his right.

                “My family’s been dragoons for generations now.  If it ends up I’m the last one, I’m probably going to hear it from my ancestors when I pass on!”  Arlette commented.

                “You two…”  Brucemont turned his head, and then stopped.  Crammed into the small chapel, the door, and as far as he could see-stretching out into the hallway, were the men and women that had been in the meeting-hall last night, along with a few faces he didn’t recognize.  Servants, armorers, squires, first year and junior dragoons, along with the seniors and trainers…

                “You all…”  Hope rose inside him, and Bastien trilled quietly.  “You…came.”

                “What did you think, we were going to say no?”  Lucian’s tone was acerbic.  Another dragoon pulled away to stand before Brucemont-another House Dzemael member, the blue-haired elezen noted.  He glanced over at Kauchoix, who grinned and nodded.

                “I’m ashamed to say I was strongly considering throwing in my lot with the Brothers.”  He said.  “I know you’re not as devout, but…”  He paused.  “The idea of peace with those who killed our kin, our families…it doesn’t feel right to give up the idea of avenging them.  And as for what the Church taught us…we grew up with it.  It was the only thing sometimes that got us through.  But…you’re right.  This whole thing is bigger than us.  We’re to serve the people first.”  Brucemont bowed his head.

                “…I never meant to make light of what those among us have suffered at the hands of the dragons.”  He said.  “Nor to those whom faith in Halone helped them through trying times.  Of course, it’s not going to sit right that we can’t avenge the hurts we have suffered at the hands of the Dravanians.  But…”  He looked out at the crowd. “If one day, we could have people look up at the skies not in fear…but in anticipation, in joy, wouldn’t that be worth giving peace a chance?”  Low murmurs rippled though the crowd, and heads nodded.  Brucemont looked around the crowded chapel again, feeling his heart twist.

_They all came.  They all came…_ He swallowed back a sudden lump in his throat.  He could pick out absences here and there, but aside from that… 

                < _This is good. >_   Bastien whispered. _ <All of them, kin and friends.>_

                “Aye.”  Brucemont whispered.  “They are.”


	28. Squires (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the dust from the Brothers' coup settles, the Order begins to catch it's breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Right. Theorycraft explanation time. A very quick Google search brought up the fact that if it is serious enough [at least for the UK], a Knight can be stripped of their title and rank. While I didn't look more for how such a thing could be done in medieval times, I figured I would go with a combination of a Ishgardian losing their knightly status plus damnatio memoriae.
> 
> Damnatio memoriae was a coin termed by the Romans for the ancient-world practice of completely removing a person from the historical records. Their names, their deeds-everything, wiped out. To the Romans this was a fate worse than death. Given the ingame lore and structure of Ishgard, I felt that this possibly would have been a punishment that could be meted out.
> 
> The idea of 'right of Saint Reinette' came from the fact that in-game, Saint Reinette is a Ishgardian woman who after her lover was killed, became a dragoon to avenge his death. After she slew the dragon, she gave up her drachen-armor and became a nun, helping the poor. While it's said the Church didn't approve of her actions and only canonized her in an attempt to distract from how corrupt it had become, I had the idea that women in Ishgardian society could possibly claim rights to perhaps participate in battles/duels for family honor or avenge murders by invoking her name. 
> 
> Lucian's suggestion on 'old stories of knight families allying with dragons' is a nod to a theorycraft plotline I ran with my dragoon some time back. As shown during the HW MSQ and Dark Knight questline, drinking dragonblood can not only grant magical abilities, but it can pass down to any descendants. It's a theorycraft I've touched on before in previous chapters as well, the idea that there were old, very old Ishgardian families who possibly had friendly relations/still engaged in friendly relations with dragons and their offspring bore the results of such friendship.)
> 
> \------------

                Reinhardt exhaled, looking down at his tray.  It was his favorite, savory meat stew with fresh-baked knight rolls.  Normally, he would be midway through, but the events of the morning had robbed him of his appetite.

                “You too?”  Reinhardt looked up.

                “Arsune.”  He said.  The elezen nodded hello, sliding into the seat next to Reinhardt.

                “…I’d heard about the stripping ceremony, but never seen one.”  He said.  “Nor a woman participating like that…”

                “She invoked the right of Saint Reinette.  They had to.”  Reinhardt answered.  It had been a fortnight since the Brothers’ attempted coup.  To begin negating the damage done, Aymeric had started to reach out to the members of the Church for talks, and to offer more details on what had happened.  At the same time, he had to deal with making sure punishments were dealt out…Louis had not been the only one who had died.  Yet his death had been the most exposed in the public eye.  The day after his burial, Louis’ mother had been found lying dead atop her son’s newly-turned grave. 

                Any hopes of Aymeric or anyone else talking Brucemont into showing mercy had fled.  The First Lance had demanded that after his trial, Louis’s former master be handed over to the Knights Dragoon for his punishment and death.  For the first, it involved the public destruction of his drachen-armor, his weapon, awards and medals, along with all records of his deeds.  This had been done by Louis’ fiancée.  While her invoking the right of Saint Reinette had allowed her to also be executioner, she had allowed Louis’ patrol-partner to carry out the deed instead.  As a final ignominy, Brucemont had opened the whole thing to the public. 

                “Never fuck with a House Dzemael member…”  Another squire said, setting down his tray near the two.  “I forgot Brucemont was one of them until today.”

                “Don’t you also mean don’t fuck with us?”  His companion replied.  “Because I thought that was also the point of today-hell, of what happened to the others!  Even the servants who participated, they can’t ever work anywhere in Coerthas ever again-hells, even Dravania!”

                “My master said Aymeric should have killed the lot of them.”  Arsune said, looking at his plate.  “Instead, letting them live just means that there’s going to be trouble later down the line.”

                “But if he killed all of them, they would have been made martyrs, and you know how much the Church adores those!”  Reinhardt picked up a knight-roll, dunking it into his soup.  Then something caught his eye, and he glanced over to the side.  Dead-Eye and another senior dragoon were clustered together, speaking softly.

 

 

                “Arsune’s approaching his fourth trial?”

                “Aye.  And Beauregard is nearing his third…”  Jeannoix consulted a paper.  “There’s high hopes that Arsune will survive his fifth, but Matthaios can’t get anything out of Pendragon for what he’s planning for Beauregard’s possible fifth.”  He exhaled.  “Newling’s been one hell of a surprise.  He’s getting deadly quick on his feet, and that white armor he wears?  He likes to blend in with his environment.”  Lucian snorted.

                “Sneaky little punk.”  He crossed his arms. “Did they release a final tally on how bad this business hit us?”  Jeannoix nodded.

                “Aye.”

                “And?”  Lucian prodded, looking over.  Jeannoix was quiet for several moments.

                “We…barely have any reserves left.”  He said.  “We can safely lose possibly another 3-5 people in any category, and we’ll have the replacements to cover them-especially if the squires left pass all their drachen-mail trials.  But after that, we’ll have nobody to replace _them_.”  He looked at Lucian.  “If Nidhogg comes and hurls his Horde against our walls, and we lose at least half of our forces, we’ll be crippled.  Lose more than half…and Brucemont is going to have to make the call on if we can recover or die.”  Lucian met Jeannoix’s gaze, and then sighed.

                “…It is what it is.”  He said, closing his eyes.  “But I won’t lie…I would very much like for us to live, to advance.  These men and women have worked so hard to get this far.”  He opened his eyes as Jeannoix put a comforting hand on his back. 

                “Things could change.”  He said.  “We have the Warrior of Light, and can you believe it-you and I have actually lived to see the Dravanians be willing to talk peace with us!”  Lucian chuckled wryly, shaking his head.

                “I wouldn’t have believed it myself.  Although…”  A thoughtful look crossed his features.  “Thinking about us being at peace with the dragons, doesn’t that remind you of those stories you’d hear every now and again?”  Jeannoix frowned.

                “Stories?” 

                “You know.  Those ones that’d get you in trouble with the Inquisitors.  About those old knightly families that were supposedly allies with the dragons all the way back at Ishgard’s founding.”  Lucian said.  “Ones that were supposed to have partaken of dragon-blood, and gained all sorts of powers…”

                “Oh, _those_.”  Jeannoix said.  He tilted his head.  “Well, now that you really think about it, maybe there might be some truth to those?  I mean when you look at us, and look at all the past dragoons, there’ve been a couple of odd ones, aye?”  He cast his gaze back over the hall.  “Hell, you can probably classify those two…”  He pointed at Arsune and Reinhardt.  “In that category.”

                “Leggy boy didn’t start getting weird until after he had that mouthful of dragon-blood.”  Lucian said.  “Beauregard on the other hand, I started looking over his files.  His trainers always noted how bloody fast he was, plus there’s those skills with wind-aether.”   He exhaled, watching the elezen and the hyur talk.

                “Either way, things are about to get interesting.”  Jeannoix said.  He glanced over at the far wall. “Ah shite-it’s almost meeting time.  I need to go.”  Lucian turned his head.

                “Meeting?”

                “Brucemont and the High House quartet are about to see what they can do with the patrol strings to give us a little leeway.  Plus, there’s mention of them finally announcing who gets to go to Anyx Trine and start to make nice with the dragons.”

                “They found a replacement for Stephan?”  Lucian asked, surprised.

                “Yep.  She got installed this morning.”  Jeannoix turned on a heel, offering a wave.  “I’ll update you with what happened!”


	29. Restructure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizing they have a long road ahead of them the Knights Dragoon begin to buckle down, while an idea for their future after Nidhogg is given voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I can't remember where I read it exactly, but it is mentioned in the lore somewhere that the dragons of Anyx Trine remember powerful monsters that 'came up from the south' that needed both the skills of the proto-Ishgardians and the dragons themselves to defeat. Also it is canon for the voidsent being at the bottom of Witchdrop; they are encounterable mobs.
> 
> The aspect of there being nastier creatures in Coerthas is an idea of my own making, but one I would feel has merit given the situation. Also on the idea of the dragoons having to reduce their patrols-while it is a unwise idea, it's something that I also think would have some merit and could have possibly been floated as a plan if their numbers were to drastically drop. It's not the greatest and best idea, but better to have guard coverage over what's most important rather than have gaps in a line of defense.)
> 
>  
> 
> \-------------

                Stephan’s replacement was a petite hyuran woman named Therese.   She could drink and swear like the most seasoned Limsan sailor, and currently had the highest dragon-kills on record for House Durendaire.  Yet if anyone dared make a crack about her height they would find themselves regretting it instantly, as the business end of a spear (or a foot, perhaps a fist, depended on the occasion) would suddenly slam hard into a body’s more painful places.   

                She was also Gaétan’s—the main cook for the Knights Dragoon—daughter.  Rumor had already spread that Gaétan had already threatened Brucemont with death if anything untoward (namely Matthaios) happened to her.  However, he was unaware that Matthiaos had already decided to give up his manwhoring ways for Illaenne.  Given the Order’s restriction on fraternization, the two had decided to keep it quiet for now until they could figure out a way to present it to Brucemont.  Naturally, this meant everyone else knew, and bets had already been placed on when Brucemont was going to speak on the matter.

                However, the business today did not involve the betting pools (unofficially), but more urgent matters…

 

\-----------------

 

                “You’re late, Jeannoix.”

                “Sorry, got held up.”  Matthiaos moved over as his partner slipped onto the bench next to him.  “Did I miss anything?”

                “Matthiaos just told us that Count Edmont is stepping down as head of Fortemps, and Artoirel will be taking his place.”  Brucemont said, gesturing. 

                “Only way to get everyone else to shut the hell up over what happened.”  Matthaios said darkly.

                “I know that comment was aimed at my House, but at this point I have as much control over my House head as you do yours.”  Kauchoix said, not moving from where he was lying down on the floor.  “And trust me, give him a little time and he’ll start bitching about the older son too.”

                “I can’t do anything for mine either.”  Therese said.  She leaned back, crossing her arms.  “But nobility business aside, what’s this about wanting to condense down the patrol-strings?  Can we even do that?”

                “It’s not honestly recommended, but at this point we don’t have a choice.”  Illaenne said.  “If we lose people and must dip into our reserves, and we lose some of _them_ , we’ll be short on bodies for the strings regardless.  Might as well start seeing what we can keep for now and what we can’t.”

                “We can scratch the fucking castrum patrols.  Nothing is going on there, and nothing possibly ever will.  The unit we have out there can be better served someplace else.”  This came from Brigid, with Coldfire nodding next to her.  Brucemont nodded, removing a paper token from a wall-map of the Central Highlands. 

                “Keep in mind that this needs to be revisited at some point.”  He said.  “But castrum patrols, gone.  What else?”

                “The Dravanian patrols?  Or at least, cut them down so they’re scouts?”  Another dragoon offered.  “I mean-if anything, the Anyx Trine dragons would be willing to warn us if Nidhogg’s on the way?”

                “We ain’t that friendly with them yet, plus from the bits and pieces I’ve gathered, they’ve stayed out of the affair.”  Came a comment from the back of the room.

                “Could probably pull out period, because we don’t have full maps of the area.  Without those, we can’t tell which way the Horde might take to come to Ishgard.”  Jeannoix mused. 

                “I would prefer that we keep a unit or two in Dravania.”  Brucemont said.  “Yes, they’d be relegated to scout work, but I’d like to start thinking long-term options after Nidhogg’s defeat.”  This comment got the full attention of the room, all eyes focused on the First Lance.  “Arlette, do you want to tell them what you discovered in your research?”  Arlette rose, nodding.

                “Aye, ser.”  She turned to face her fellow dragoons.  “As you know, the Church is no longer in power.  All the obvious implications and chaos we’ve had aside, it also means many old records that were sealed off are now, thanks to the Lord High Commander, accessible.  Brucemont ordered me to peruse some of the older documents that the Inquisition had locked away, and I found something rather interesting.”

                “Which was?”  Matthiaos asked, curious.

                “That the Dravanian lands-and our Western Highlands, were said to play host to a fair number of more powerful monsters that were rumored to come up from the south.”  Arlette said.  “Now I don’t know how completely true that is, but there are sporadic reports in the official Knight Dragoon records of encounters with such creatures.”

                “There’s also something else.”  Brucemont added.  “For some odd years now, there have been stories of more darker entities making their home in some areas of Corethas.  Many of us have heard about voidsent living at the bottom of Witchdrop.”  Heads bobbed.  “The Stone Vigil-well, we all know what happened there.  There’s parts of Coerthas that had to be abandoned when the snow set in, that may have Halone-only-knows what.”

                “So, you think after Nidhogg’s death, in addition to us possibly dealing with his brood seeking revenge, we might be running into all sorts of creatures?”  Coldfire asked, leaning forward.

                “We very well could be.”  Brucemont said.  “And compared to the Temple Knights, we would be the ones with more experience in dealing with more…powerful foes.”  He gestured.  “I know it’s too early, but it’s something I’d like all of us to keep in mind.  We’ve never really considered what we would be doing after Nidhogg’s defeat, and I’d like some sort of structure set up for that.”

                “Speaking of Nidhogg…”  Kauchoix sat up.  “Have…you made a full decision as of yet, First Lance?”  Brucemont sighed, looking to the side.

                “…I will be asking for volunteers to join myself in creating a support unit for the Warrior of Light and her Companions when they move to attack.”  He said.  “Right now, that seems to be the best solution.  Were we to engage him-he has knowledge of all of us, and it would amount to little more than a bloodbath.  As for how we’re going to be able to fight him yet, I don’t know.  I need to meet with the Lord High Commander and discuss that situation.”  Heads bobbed again.

                “…We could probably trim down a unit in the Sea of Clouds.”  Another dragoon interjected.  “I know that’s a major watch-area for us, but Hallienarte all but has their entire House army over it…”  Brucemont looked to Illaenne.

                “Can we?”  The female elezen frowned, crossing her arms.

                “…I don’t like the idea, but I think the House could cover it.”  She said slowly.  “I’d have to check.”  Brucemont nodded, removing another paper token.

                “We can…”  He considered the map. “The string for the Coerthas/Gridanian border.  That unit can be reassigned.  Along with…the Thanalan border.”  He removed two more tokens.  Kauchoix counted on his fingers.

                “That’s twelve.”  He said.

                “Six to join the other Central Highlands strings, six for the Western Highlands.  The units in Dravania will be changed out for members who are powerful in aether that can use the teleport crystals.”  Brucemont said.  “If you’re assigned to either one of those two, and you see anything, come straight here.”

                “What about the newlings if they pass their final tests?”  Jeannoix asked.

                “Split with the rest of you all between the Central and Western Highlands.”  Brucemont paused, going over his agenda mentally.

                _I think that should be all of it._ He didn’t like scrambling about, but at this point there was no other choice.  For the Order to make it though this period of chaos unscathed, they either had to adjust or die.

                "Does anyone have any questions?"


	30. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief respite for the Order allows some to spend time with their loved ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Dedicated to the following people: glyphenthusiast, dragons-bones, autumnslance, and garlean-nonsense. Thank you for always reading, and for the words of encouragement. Your support has helped me through a really bad time and as I continue to get on my feet. Please accept this as a token of my appreciation, though it is a poor offering compared to what you've done for me.) 
> 
> \-----------------

               There was a saying among the Knights-Dragoon, ‘widowed the moment wed’.  It was a grim reminder that anyone who bound themselves to a dragoon faced the possibility of welcoming their loved one home on a bier every single time a patrol went out.  The mortality rates for relationships in the Knights Dragoon were much higher than that of the Congregation, for even if the dragoon returned alive, there was the stress of long separations, battle mind, being poor…a fact which shocked many.  Unless they were born or adopted into a noble family, or had particularly distinguished themselves, a Knight-Dragoon made just enough to support themselves.

 

                But not all relationships were so grim.  There were men and women who had faced down the worst so far that being a dragoon-spouse could bring, and still stuck by their partner.  Love was their foundation, not a desire for money or status.  They were the ones who quietly endured the long separations, who whispered prayers to Halone to keep their loved one safe, and often took a more active role within the Order themselves.  Many learned the healing arts, the better to help patch up cuts and bruises when a weary body in drachen-mail came through the front door, and to help with the terrors that came from a mind always in battle.  Others learned smithing, the better to help at least keep the drachen-mail and Gale Bog in working order.  They formed small support groups-the better to watch each other when their loved ones were gone, it was always nice to have someone check up on you.  And when their spouse did return safe and sound, they did their best to make sure that home was at least calm and restful…

 

\-----------

 

                Baronness Riven Pendragon fought back a flush as the housekeeper brought over a cup of tea.  Next to her, her husband lay dead-or at least partly dead-to the world.  Riven knew from experience that Vahn could snap awake at a moment’s notice if needed.  He’d returned home from his patrol in the dead of night, stumbling in from exhaustion and cold.  Riven’s first inclination had been to get him under the covers for a well-earned nap, but one kiss had well…resulted in a slight change of plans on both their parts. 

                “Thank you, Martha.”

                “Will you be staying in with the lord master this morning?”  Riven fought back another blush, making sure the covers were carefully pulled around her.

                “I actually will be getting up after this cup to take care of some matters.  I know Vahn has had some appointments, but this morning…”  She shook her head.  “I’ll be seeing what I can safely cancel or delay.  He needs some time without all the noble…”  She gestured.  “Hoopla.”

                “Very good, my lady.”

 

 

                “Name a Second.”  The flatly-delivered statement made Kauchoix lift his eyes from the letter he was reading. 

                “Roi.”  At the foot of the bed, another Duskwright elezen crossed his arms.

                “Name a Second.”  He repeated.  Kauchoix bit back a growl of frustration.

                “You know I can’t name one!”

                “Why not?”  Roi challenged.  Kauchoix gave his lover a deadpan stare.

                “Have you forgotten what House we’re under?”  He said, then started as Roi came over and snatched the letter out of his hand. “Oi!”

                “Name a Second.”  Roi snapped, starting to pick the rest of the letters off the bedspread before the dragoon could get to them.  “And yes, I know what House we’re under, it’s a reason why you should have a Second!  Illaenne has one, Matthiaos has one, even the new Durendaire dragoon got one!  You need someone to help you keep up with the bloody infernal scheming that goes on in this viper pit, and to give you a break!”  Kauchoix sighed, swinging his legs over the bed’s side.

                “Roi, it’s not that easy.  I can’t pick a Second like how I can pick dinner.”

                “You’ve had applicants!”  Roi snapped.  Then he turned his head away as Kauchoix reached out to embrace him.

                “Roi…”

                “You work yourself to the bone when you’re on duty, you work yourself to the bone when you’re home, you don’t get any rest—” Roi’s shoulders sagged, and he looked at Kauchoix with teary eyes.  Kauchouix felt his stomach twist with guilt. 

                _He has a point…_   The elezen sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to his partner’s forehead.

                “You’re right.”  He said softly.  “I need a Second.”  Roi sniffed, sucking in a quick breath.

                “I…I’m sorry.  I know you have exacting requirements.”  He replied.  “I just…Kauchoix, I want you to _rest_.  You can’t stay on top of things if you’re tired, and if you show one bit of weakness in this House the wolves pounce.  Twelve only know there’s eyes on you now with all this business with the dragons.”  Kauchoix nodded, resting his hands atop Roi’s upper arms.

                “How’s this. I’ll put away all the paperwork, and then I’m at your disposal for the day.”  He said.  “I’ll do whatever you want.”  Roi smiled.

                “Anything?”  He asked, reaching up to play with Kauchoix’s collar.

                “Anything.”  Kauchoix said. 

 

 

                “Let your new papa sleep, darling.”  Callix grunted, stretching.

                “Is alright, let him in.”  He mumbled. 

                “You sure?”

                “Is fine.”  The elezen muttered sleepily.  With a contented sigh he reached out, draping an arm over the boy who was cuddling into his side.  A faint smile crossed his face as a warm female body pressed into his back.

                “Need to get up at some point and start breakfast…”

                “It can wait a bit.”  Callix mumbled.  “We won’t starve.”  He could feel the stress and strain of the past few days seep out of him, the soft breathing of his adopted son and his new wife a soothing balm for his nerves. 

                “Have to go in this afternoon to the laundry.”  His wife muttered sleepily.  Callix rolled onto his back, stretching out his other arm to pull his wife closer.

                “More sleep, less talk.”  He grumbled.

                “Aye Master Dragoon.”  Another smile played over Callix’s face, and he moved to press a kiss to his wife’s cheek.

                “Mmm.”

 

               

                “Are you sure you wouldn’t want something a little more…delicate?”  The merchant asked.  Matthiaos shook his head, his eyes not leaving the jewelry tray.

                “No.  This one.”  Under the light, a betrothal bracelet of white gold shimmered, rubies, sapphires and emeralds sparkling.  The Fortemps dragoon exhaled, trying to calm his nerves.

                “Very good, ser.”  Matthiaos watched as the bracelet was picked up and artfully arranged in a leather box.  “And may I ask how you will be paying?”

                “Gil, if that’s alright.”  The price of the bracelet was steep, but Matthiaos knew he could afford it.  He’d been wise enough to invest a small bit of his pay in trade when Ishgard had reopened its’ gates to Eorzea.  His returns weren’t what you would call considerable, but it had been enough to give him a tiny bit of savings and afford the bracelet.

                “The receipt as well, ser?”

                “Please.”  Matthiaos got out, his throat suddenly dry.  Logically it was the smart thing, because if Illaenne said no, he would have to return it.  Pulling on his collar, the dragoon made a mental note to visit Memphina’s shrine in the Central Highlands.  The goddess of love was also a popular deity in the Order, and Matthiaos felt he needed all the help he could get.

                “Could you make sure it’s well wrapped?”

### 

  


	31. Setback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragoons find themselves reeling after the first failed peace summit at Falcon's Nest, and a hard realization hits home for the entire Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Regarding the first failed peace summit at Falcon's Nest: It was interesting to see that the Brothers of the True Faith were primarily clergy and military, while the revolt at Falcon's Nest was more civilian-based. SE I feel, did a good job there showing the effects of the push for peace on people who were clearly unprepared. Personally, I fall into the camp of 'things weren't as nice and tidy' as how it was shown. I feel that for a very long time, possibly two/three generations worth, Ishgard would be dealing with the repercussions of ending the Dragonsong War on all levels. Noble families/merchants who benefited from the Church's grip on power or with the continual demand for armor/weapons would surely find themselves on the out, and if they couldn't adapt, would be willing to do anything to return things to the way they once were. 
> 
> Also mention of the sex closet: >.> Because come on, we all know there's been one place at one job where people went off to do hanky-panky.)
> 
> \-----------

                Brucemont exhaled, trying to center himself.  The infirmary was full, but praise the Twelve it wasn’t with fatal injuries.  Bumps, bruises, arrows that had gotten lucky and found the gaps in the drachen-mail, swords that had done the same—but nobody was dead, nobody was severely injured.  However…

                “Therese.”  The Durendaire dragoon lifted her head, skin pale.  Brucemont noted that she was trembling, but the look in her eyes told him it was from rage more than fear.  She didn’t need to be taken to task, she needed to be calmed down.  “Report.”

                “Ser.”  The hyuran woman nodded, swallowing.  “It seems to have been the smallfolk this time.  Many of them working at Falcon’s Nest and the surrounding area.  They monitored when we were going out and coming in, the same for the Durendaire fighters and the Temple Knights…”  Therese swallowed again.  “No connection it seems to the Brothers right now.”

                “Fucking hellfire…”  Matthiaos groaned from a nearby bed.  His left shoulder was being bandaged.  “And idiot lording didn’t help anything, he made the matter worse!”

                “What happened there?”  Brucemont asked.

                “Screamed for the men to fire, and some fool shot at the bitch.”  The Fortemps dragoon was blunt.  “And just her luck, it fucking hit her! Now she’s a bloody martyr to all those fools and there’ll be even more problems now!”

                “It may be worse than that.”  Kauchoix said quietly.  He watched as every gaze in the ward landed on him.  “Before I came here, I heard a report.  The Warrior of Light was found unconscious in the tavern.  The theory is that they disabled her first, then launched their attack.”

                “She’s not dead, is she?!” Illeanne demanded.  Then she sagged in relief as Kauchoix shook his head.  “Oh, praise Halone.  That’s the last problem we need.”

                “There were reports of the Convictors threatening to shoot down the dragons’ emissary.”  The Duskwright continued.  “That’s why the Red Rim patrols were diverted.  Not they could have done much anyway.”  He shook his head. “This was just a perfect storm of…well…fuckery.”

                “Hear hear.”  Matthiaos growled.

                “Well, we’re not so good at the peace thing…”  Illaenne offered, trying to lighten the mood.  “But maybe things can only get better from here.”

                “No, it’s going to go to the pit even mor-owowowow…”  Brucemont facepalmed.

                “Illaenne.  Maim your boyfriend on leave-time.”  He snapped.  Silence filled the room.  “Yes, I knew about your highly inappropriate-while-on-duty relationship moons ago.  But as you two are fully grown and were keeping it professional, not to mention I have no control over your personal lives, I don’t care if you two continue fucking like rabbits in the sex-closet—yes, I know about that too.”  Both Matthiaos and Illeanne were bright shades of red, Therese was staring at Brucemont in shock, and Kauchoix was struggling to keep his composure.  The other injured dragoons were either snorting or looking off to the side.  The First Lance exhaled.

                “Therese.”  The Durendaire dragoon snapped to attention.  “How is your lord going to handle this?”

                “I have a meeting with him when I get out of here.  He’s…”  Therese swallowed again, and Brucemont had to pity her and the other Durendaire commanders.  Honor had been besmirched, lives possibly lost, pride singed.  If heads weren’t already rolling, they were about to.  “I expect he’ll be taking immediate action, First Lance.”

                “I expect him to.”  It wasn’t fair for him to pile it on, but there was no choice.  “Remind the Count that attacking any member of the Order, along with knowledge of our patrols is considered treason.”  Therese paled even more, and Brucemont could hear muttering, but he let it slide.  “Then get some rest.  In the morning we’ll revamp the string switches out of Falcon’s Nest.”

                “Do you know if they sent word to the Anyx Trine dragons?”  Matthiaos asked, sitting up with a wince.

                “Aye, they know there’s been a delay.”  Snorts were heard again at Brucemont’s choice of words.  “I’ll be heading to meet with Ser Aymeric now.  You all get some rest.”  The other dragoons watched as he left the room, and Matthiaos dropped his head back on his pillow. 

                “It’s not on you, Therese.  The heat’s probably going to land on Redwall and his people.  We don’t have jurisdiction over ground troops.”  Illaenne was attempting to recover from her earlier embarrassment. 

                “Even so.  Those string shifts…”  Therese dropped onto a chair, putting her head in her hands.  This was her first major crisis as a House Dragoon, and one she felt ill-prepared for.

                “We also don’t know how to fight.”  The statement from Matthiaos made every dragoon in the room lift their head and stare at him.  The House Fortemps dragoon turned his head to meet the gazes head on.

                “We don’t know how to fight people.” He clarified.  “I meant it when I said earlier that it was going to go to the pit even more.  You think the Brothers and now this were just random?  No.  All of us-not just us dragoons, but the Temple Knights, the High House armies, the Houses-High, Low, the merchants, the Brumelings…everyone in Coerthas is going to be dealing with this for the rest of our lives and probably our children’s lives.”  His gaze flicked to Kauchoix, who sighed.

                “…He’s right.”  He said softly.  “I can tell you I’ve got my eye on quite a few people in my House that already are under suspicion for potential treasonous acts against the new government.  And not even for House Dzemael, there’s other families as well that all of this…hurt them.  Financially.”

                “There’s a few in Haillenarte.”  Illaenne said.  She sighed, rolling her shoulders.  “Matthiaos is right.  Furthermore, we can’t say we’re not political anymore…because we _are._   Can’t say we’re fully neutral because guess what? We’re right in the Lord High Commander’s camp.  Been there ever since Ser Wrymblood declared us neutral.  Declaring neutrality was a political act in of itself, not to mention going ‘we’ll attack Nidhogg’s Horde, but his brother’s kin and allies are hands off’.”

                “So where does that leave us then?”  Another dragoon asked from his bed.  “We’re doing all we can, we can’t do any more.”

                “We don’t have a choice.”  Therese said.  “We already climbed to the peak and jumped.  Now it’s just a matter of sticking the landing.”

                “Here’s to hoping we don’t fucking misjudge the timing.”  Matthiaos muttered.

 

 

 


	32. Revisionist History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Grand Melee is plotted out, the Knights Dragoon begin to learn some more of the dragons of Dravania.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So back to heavy theorycraft territory. I always found it strange-and was miffed-that we didn't see any dragoons participating in the Grand Melee. It could be argued that Aymeric could have possibly forgotten about the Order, or maybe decided that they wouldn't engage-because let's be honest, having the Warrior of Light on your team pretty much outstrips everyone else--but then that wouldn't make sense because that would be a **major** insult. And the last thing you want is a branch of the military that is pissed at you. 
> 
> I also feel that at this point, the dragoons possibly could have been starting to learn more about Dravania and the dragons' history. The idea of Vidofnir relocating to Anyx Trine is possibly not lore-friendly, but considering in the Churning Mists the very large-scale FATE that stars Vedrfolnir specifically facing off against a general of Nidhogg's Horde that's hell bent on destroying Zenith, not to mention I believe it is said in the region that Nidhogg's ordered his forces to go after any and all reminders of Proto-Ishgardian/Dravanian alliance [i could be wrong], I felt it safe to make the assumption that Nidhogg's forces could also be going after Hraesveglr's brood due to their refusal to participate in the war. Possibly on his orders. When you really think about it, had he been able to complete his vengeance against Ishgard, who's not to say he could have stopped there? And the dragons of Anyx Trine seem to have a heavy dragonet population.
> 
> He brags to Hraesveglr of being in fighting shape for years during their battle. I believe that if Nidhogg had been able to conquer Coerthas, there's a very real chance he could have not stopped there. The Horde could have been turned on the other dragons of Dravania, or even the Eorzean Alliance themselves.)
> 
> \----------------

                The Grand Melee-while an impulsive idea on Aymeric's part, had proven to be a stroke of political genius.  A wave of patriotism swept over Ishgard, burying the opposition to the city-state rejoining the Eorzean Alliance and to the peace treaty with the dragons.  The High Houses and the other nobles began vying to have their best and brightest join the Temple Knight representatives, while those selected from the Brume Watch trained under the careful eye of Lucia.  All that was missing were the Knights-Dragoon, and so Aymeric made his way over to the Order's half of the Congregation, only to nearly run into a message that had been sent for him.  The unit assigned as the representatives for the Order at Anyx Trine had sent one of their members back, bearing quite a lot of information...

 

 

                "And they just handed this over?"  Alberic Bale, the previous Azure and now current trainer crossed his arms.  "Just like that?"

                "There was no prohibition against them speaking to us, ser.  In fact, the dragon who told us all of this felt it would be useful."  Vahn Pendragon said, gesturing.  "Though...the fact that we helped take out a Gnath assault force might have also tipped the balance."  The older hyur frowned.

                "...It makes an odd sort of sense when you think about it."  He said. 

                "What does?"  Aymeric asked, entering the room.  Immediately the occupants snapped to attention and saluted.  "As you were.  What's this about information from Anyx Trine?"

                "Ser.  I'm a member of the unit assigned to that area to help..."  Vahn paused. "Well, get the dragons used to us.  When we arrived out there to start our shift, the main tower was under attack from the Gnath.  We helped repel them back, which pleased the dragons there greatly.  Later on, one of them came up to our camp and..."  He gestured.  "Started talking.  Normally we would have waited until the string-switch to file reports, but as this concerns Nidhogg, it was decided that I'd come here."  Brucemont nodded.

                "Pendragon and the others learned that the dragons at Anyx Trine are a recent arrival."  He said.  "As in they've only been there twenty years."  Aymeric's eyes widened in shock.

                "What?"

                "It turns out, whenever Nidhogg's forced to go into slumber, his brood and the Horde doesn't just only attack us, ser.   They attack the other dragons of Dravania."  Vahn said.  "Including Hraesvelgr's brood.  And according to what we were told, Hraesvelgr doesn't really do anything about it.  The most attention he's given the matter is allowing one of his children and their brood to act as a defender for the region."

                "Vidofnir became concerned for those under her and their hatchlings.  She didn't want to move because of the number of young they have, but to keep them safe she had no choice but to relocate."  Matthiaos said.  "Another reason why they took up residence at Anyx Trine was because of their refusal to take Nidhogg's side in the war."  Vahn nodded.

                "And, it turns out some of Nidhogg's brood _left_ even before the fighting began all those centuries ago."  He added.  "They were upset at what happened, but only wanted justice brought to those who committed the deed."  Aymeric crossed his arms, listening intently. 

                "I see.  This is useful information, though worrisome."  He mused.  "If Hraesveglr does not even do anything to protect his own kin from his brother, he may not be fully the ally that I was hoping for."

                "It also gives us a better look at dragon dynamics."  Vahn said.  "The dragon we spoke with said that Vidofnir more or less cannot do anything unless she asks it of her sire.  The same goes for her brother-the one acting as the brood's primary defender. His name is Vedrfolnir."

                “But in that vein, wouldn’t Nidhogg’s brood and the Horde need his permission to attack his kin?”  Alberic suddenly ventured.  “And that’s something…”  He paused as the room went very quiet, absorbing the implications of his words.

                “…Either he’s given permission, or they are acting independently whenever he’s forced back into slumber.”  Brucemont said, breaking the silence.  “Both of which are not good.  The former shows that he may not be thinking rationally—were I him, I’d want my brother as my ally.  We’ve been this hard pressed against one brood, but against two?  Coerthas would be in ashes.”

                “The latter possibly showing that he may not have as much control over the Horde as we first thought-and that they could be a problem we suspected they might be after Nidhogg's defeat.”  Matthiaos continued. “Shite.”

                “But if they are acting independently, then we may have an opening.”  Aymeric said.  He gestured.  “If Hraesveglr does not wish to fight, then perhaps…” 

                “Wait.  You want to ask him to fight against his brother?!”  Alberic exclaimed.  Aymeric turned to face the former Azure, nodding.

                “It is something that has been in the back of my mind, aye."  He said.  "Peace I feel he will certainly agree too, based on the results of our initial negotiations so far. But as for his brood brother…”  The Lord High Commander shook his head. “I am not my father, nor am I the Heavens’ Ward.  I know realistically what our forces can handle.  We would be better augmented with Hraesveglr’s brood…or any support we could get from that quarter.”

                “Meaning if he says no, then appealing to one of his children…”  Brucemont began .  Aymeric nodded.  He looked towards Vahn. 

                 “Were you able to obtain any more information?”  He asked.

                  “Yes ser.  There's at least five major dragon-broods in Dravania...well technically, six and a half."  As the present group boggled at him, Vahn continued. "The two major ones are Nidhogg and Hraesveglr, followed by Hraesveglr's children--Vidofnir and Vedrfolnir.  Vishap has a small brood of his own-thus the half, but then there's also Ratatoskr's brood."  _That_ got the full attention of everyone in the room.

                  "Wait a minute-Ratatoskr?!"  Brucemont exclaimed.  " _The_ Ratatoskr?!  Her brood still _**lives**_?!"

                  "Aye."  The hyur said.  "According to what we were told, they took after their dam-wandering the world when she was alive.  After her death, many of them took flight away from Dravania and have never returned.  The ones that remain are hidden--possibly among Hraesveglr's progeny."  Silence filled the room for several moments before Aymeric exhaled audibly.

                 "And here I was coming to ask you who did you wish to field in the Grand Melee!"  He chuckled wryly.  Brucemont blanched, looking at the Lord High Commander.  "We cannot be without dragoons after all, but I know the Order has been hard-pressed."

                 "When...is it?"  Brucemont asked, almost gingerly.  As Aymeric named the date, a collective groan rippled though the room, and the blue-haired elezen closed his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.  Aymeric blinked.

                 "Is something the matter?"

                 "That's string-switch orn.  Literally." Brucemont replied.  Now it was Aymeric's turn to start.  "And I'll be honest ser, I don't even know if we can spare anyone to fight." To his credit, Aymeric nodded.

                 "If you cannot field anyone, you cannot."  He said.  "No dishonor to it, you have your hands full."  Brucemont opened an eye, peering at Alberic.

                 "Let us go over our numbers and see if we can't come up with something."  He said.  "But I make no promises.  Right now we need to go over what Pendragon has brought and modify our plans accordingly."  He sighed.  "Just our luck Vishap could breed..."  Aymeric nodded.

                 "Send me word of any new developments."


	33. Exposure (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end...starting with the rescheduled peace summit at Falcon's Nest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Not much here, just some more theorycraft. Also there might be some formatting troubles, for that I apologize. Things got a little wonky.)
> 
> \----------------

                The orn of the Grand Melee dawned, with nearly the entire city flooding the makeshift arena to watch the battles.  At the eleventh hour, Brucemont had somehow been able to free up a unit to participate, though when their matches were completed they went right back out to their patrol-strings.  The news that Ishgard had won brought cheers over the linkpearl-and gil exchanging hands—before it was right back to duty.  
  


                And then the morning of the rescheduled peace summit arrived.  For a change the weather was sunny, the air crisp and clear.  Throngs of people crowded Falcon’s Nest, highborn and lowborn alike.  Security was heightened as well, in the form of the Durendaire House army and the Durendaire dragoons.  It had been learned that Durendaire servants had been responsible for the information leak that had led to the attack at the first gathering.  When Count Durendaire had learned who was responsible, he had been furious.  This time, there would be no mistakes of any sort, or there would be all the seven hells to pay.

 

 

                “…When is the dragon supposed to arrive again?”  Therese felt her right eye twitch at the question.

                “Swear to the gods Richard, if you ask that one more time…”  She growled.  The other dragoon fell silent, though not before Therese heard a whisper.

                “For fuck’s sake, can we not aggravate her?”  Therese bared her teeth, fingers tightening around the hilt of her Gale Bog.  Then an updraft of air distracted her as Illeanne landed nearby.  The elezen dragoon pushed up her helm as she walked over.

               “Unclench.”  She advised in a low voice.  “If you get like this every time your Count decides to ride your arse you’re not going to survive the year.  We can’t do much anyway, the bulk of the work is on the ground forces.”

              “That’s easy for you to say!”  Therese hissed, before her shoulders sagged.  The Haillenarte dragoon was right and she knew it.  Illaenne gave the younger woman an appraising look, then turned her attention to the courtyard.

              “Anyone figure out just what in the seven hells is under that sheet?”  She asked.

              “No.  The Lord High Commander posted guards so nobody could take a peek-” A dragon’s roar echoed though the sky, and the dragoons suddenly were grabbing for their spears and rushing to their positions.

 _Everyone stand down!_   Brucemont’s voice bellowed over the linkpearl.  _Stand down, it’s the guest of honor!_ Illaenne and the Durendaire dragoons stared at each other for several seconds, before Therese chuckled-abit nervously.

             “We probably need to get on some type of way of identifying our allies from our enemies.”  She said, trying to break the awkward silence.  “Otherwise one or a few of us are going to get a little jump happy.”

            “A thing to bring up to Brucemont as soon as possible.”  Illaenne agreed.  She looked up as Vidofnir began to circle the fortress.  “Everyone back to their positions…and try to relax.  Somewhat.  If possible.”

 

            Kauchoix whistled as Vidofnir landed on the temporary podium. 

           “Good fucking idea they decided to reinforce the wood with stone spells.”  He said. “Otherwise, splinters.”  As Aymeric advanced towards the white dragon, the dragoons themselves were chattering over the linkpearl.

_She’s got muscles…_

_I would not want to be on the receiving end of any blows from those claws!_

_Doesn’t mean she can’t be fast though._

_Uh, hello? Historical moment? Can we all just shut the fuck up and enjoy?_ Kauchoix chuckled, shaking his head.  Joking aside, this was a heavy occasion.  Brucemont’s words had been in the back of his mind ever since the First Lance had spoken them…a day when the Knights Dragoon could perhaps turn to something else.  Fighting monsters would probably be a slight let-down from fighting dragons, but it was probably far more honorable than a war of attrition.

 

         Illaenne frowned, rolling her shoulders. 

        “Lilith, what’s going on?”  She murmured.  Her dragon was stirring, transmitting feelings of unease and defensiveness.  The elezen woman found that she couldn’t relax, turning away from the Lord High Commander turning to face the large drape.  Her eyes scanned the crowd, the skies, the snow-covered landscape just beyond Falcon’s Nest.  Everything was calm.  Yet… 

       “Steelrose here.  Dragons report.” Silence, and then the linkpearl crackled to life.

_Mine’s acting up._

_Shite, you too?  I can’t get mine to settle-_

_Maybe because of our guest?_   Illaenne lowered her hand, turning in place to look at the sky again.  Lilith was beginning to growl now, a bone-chilling sound that was rolling down Illaenne’s spine.  The urge to launch herself into the air was strong, there was something not right.

       “Never!”  The familiar voice made Illaenne spin, heart in her throat.  Lilith was now snarling, and the reason for it was standing atop one of the ramparts on the opposite side of Falcon’s Nest. 

_Oh no, oh no, oh no…_


	34. Horror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Order is left reeling from the events of the peace summit...

 

                Brucemont’s heart was in his throat.  He wanted to move-needed to move, but his body was stone, it wouldn’t respond to his commands.  Bastien had turned into bands of steel wrapped around his chest and back, fearful hisses echoing in his mind. 

               _Oh my gods, oh my gods, oh my gods…_   There was the blood-stained drachen mail he remembered, the familiar feel of the all-powerful rancor…but it was worse.  Ten times worse.  Dimly he could hear screams, but there was also a strange silence-later Brucemont would realize that it was the Knight-Dragoon linkpearl.  As he stood there, the red-armored form suddenly leapt into the air, hovering for just several moments before dropping downward.  Too late did the First Lance realize what was about to happen, and before he could draw in a breath…

 

                 Vidofnir’s screams of pain jarred Matthiaos out of the stupor he was in.  His own dragon was snarling in the back of his thoughts, and as he watched, Estinien jumped from the back of the now-unconscious dragon to another rampart. 

                _Halone guide my spear!_ The rancor that seethed and coiled around Estinien made Matthiaos want to recoil, to flee, but it was the eyes that had him locked in place, staring.  They were moving independently, one fused to the left shoulder, the other to the right forearm.  As from a distance, he could hear Estinien speak, but those weren’t words that the Azure Dragoon would say-

                “ _ **First Lance!**_ ”  The scream in his left ear was an electrical shock to his system, it was the voice of Illaenne.  “ _First Lance, give us the order!  First Lance, do you read?!  Give us the order!_ ”  Estinien had spread his arms, floating up into the air as the red and black miasma engulfed him before exploding outward.  No longer was the form of the Azure Dragoon there, instead there was…

                “Go!”  Matthiaos almost didn’t recognize Brucemont’s voice.  “All units- _after him!_ ”

 

 

                Night came to Ishgard.  For a morning that had started with such promise, with the sun high in the sky, now the evening was dark, filled with despair and gloom.  Homes were tightly shut, curtains, and blankets pulled or nailed/tied over windows so not even any scraps of light could shine out.  Children clung to their parents and guardians with wide eyes, while the remaining faithful to Halone held rosaries in trembling fingers and whispered old prayers.  Heads of the High House armies poured over contingency plans, trying to figure out what to present to their liege lords come morning.

 

                For the first time in a long time, the Knight-Dragoon half of the Congregation was as silent as a tomb.  For not only had Ishgard’s hopes been dashed during the day…but a full unit of senior Dragoons were in the infirmary, fighting for their lives.  Footsteps and conversations were hushed, training was canceled, and the shrine to Halone had no space left for offerings.  Parked in the tiny alcove was Kauchoix, the beads of a rosary laced inbetween his fingers as he looked at the statue of the goddess tucked into the wall.

                “Kauchoix?”  Hearing his name, the Duskwright turned around.  Roi was standing in the doorway with a faint smile, holding a wrapped bundle.

                “Roi.  What are you…”

                “I figured you didn’t have a chance to eat.”  Nodding to the statue, Roi entered the shrine and sat in the pew next to his lover. 

                “I don’t know if I can even eat.”  Kauchoix admitted, looking down.

                “You can try.”  Roi said gently, unwrapping the bundle.  “And…you can tell me what happened.  If you keep it inside, it’ll fester…”  Agony crossed Kauchoix’s features, and he closed his eyes.

                “We couldn’t move.”  He whispered.  “All we could do was just stare.  It…it was him, but it wasn’t him.”  He swallowed.  “Illaenne…she was the first one to get her wits about her.  Not even her, it was the Lord High Commander.  She was second.  I remember her screaming…screaming for Brucemont to give us the order.  Brucemont didn’t even sound like himself when he finally spoke…”  He opened his eyes, staring at his fingers.

                “He was too fast.  We lost him on the way to Red Rim…but the unit there, they were waiting, they’d heard Illeanne over the linkpearl, Brucemont’s order.”  Kauchoix’s body began to tremble.  “When we got there…they were all on the ground…”  Roi’s eyes widened in horror.

                “Nidhogg?”  He whispered.  Kauchoix nodded.

                “He went after them.”  His voice was an agonized whisper.  “We found them-he’d left them behind in the snow, tossed around and broken like toys.  Brigid, Celeste, Laurent, Triyont, Maelys, Durante…”  A sob escaped Kauchoix’s throat, and he buried his face in his hands.  Food forgotten, Roi threw his arms around the dragoon’s back, feeling his heart twist painfully in his chest.

                “Kauchoix…”  There was nothing else he could say, nothing he could do except to hug Kauchoix as he wept, harsh sounds that made Roi want to wail and cry himself.  Closing his eyes, Roi tightened his grip on Kauchoix, beginning to whisper a prayer.

                “Hail Halone, full of mercy, glory is with thee.  Blessed are those who wield your spear, and blessed are those who protect your children.  Holy Halone, mother to us all, grant us your grace now and at the hour of our death.  Hail Halone, full of mercy, glory is with thee…”

 

                They were still in the shrine when a red-eyed Therese came looking for Kauchoix the following morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So this was another difficult chapter to write. The only good explanation I could possibly give for theorycraft regarding the absence of Dragoons when Nidhogg attacks Vidofnir was that they were in shock at seeing what had happened to their leader. Considering possibly how close some dragoons toe the line with their inner dragons and possible stories/examples of dragoons turning into dragons, Estinien/Nidhogg's appearance would have probably been enough to freeze even the most battle-hardened among them. 
> 
> The idea of Nidhogg attacking a dragoon-unit is a pet theory of mine, and one that I think could possibly fit. It would be a good way to torture Estinien, plus further demoralize the will of Ishgard's defenders. 
> 
> Apologizes to anyone particularly religious for bastardizing the RC Rosary prayer to make it fit more in line with what a Halonic worshiper would say.)


	35. Possibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the lips of a injured Knight-Dragoon, Brucemont is told something that's near impossible to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I crave your indulgence with this, as this chapter is -pure- theorycraft. It continues to expound on the idea of Nidhogg possibly attacking a Dragoon unit as a way to inflict more torture upon Estinien [or also just to be a dick]. 
> 
> As for Estinien-while yes, it does seem to be broadcast publicly about his situation at the end of the main HW MSQ, I noted that it never really came back up in any way in Ishgard until the ending of patch 3.2. The only explanation I could think of from a theoretical point of view could be that Midgardsormr was speaking telepathically to Aymeric and the WoL, and nobody else. Otherwise...you had a group of Temple Knights there. Word WOULD have gotten out.
> 
> The idea of dragonsblood and it's uses/effects on a active-duty Dragoon I expounded upon in an earlier chapter. I do think however that the Knights-Dragoon would have possibly been dealing with some backlash from Estinien/Nidhogg's reveal, though the severity of it is debatable.)
> 
> \-----------------

                “They’ll live.”  An audible sigh of relief echoed though the meeting room.  Brucemont released a breath that he’d been holding, nodding before he continued.  “When they’ll be back on their feet, it’s not known yet.”        
  
                “Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, they’re alive.”  A voice commented from the back.  Brucemont nodded again, looking around.  His entire body ached, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and never get back up-a sentiment he knew everyone in the room shared.  However…

                “I ordered this recall for two reasons.  One, with what happened yesterday, there needs to be a discussion on the immediate future of the Western Highlands strings.”  He began.  As voices started to raise, the blue-haired elezen held up a hand for silence.  “The second reason is that we’re starting to get blowback regarding what happened to the Azure.”

                “Wait, what?”  Matthiaos’ head popped up, and he looked at Brucemont. “Blowback?”

                “The Inquisition-or more specifically, the former Grand Inquisitor’s people started to come after us this morning.”  Therese said.  “They’re screaming for an investigation.”

                “Of all the fucking-now?!”  Matthaios spluttered.  The other dragoons voiced their agreement.

                “The Lord High Commander and I have a meeting with the Church and the leaders of the High Houses in two bells.  We have his support, but due to what happened yesterday we’re going to have to change our story.”  Brucemont said, holding up his hand again for silence. 

                “Change it to what?”  Callix asked, pushing up the helm of his visor.  “And at this point…can’t we just tell the truth, First Lance?  What can they do to us?”

                “People are already scared.  Ser Wrymblood we can probably explain away due to the Eye and that godsdamned armor, but if you want to go ahead and tell them that hey, for a thousand years their only defense against the dragons can possibly turn into the thing they fear the most-please, knock yourself the fuck out.  Please enjoy the chaos that follows.”  Kauchoix’s tone was scathing.

                “You said you were changing the story?” The question came from Pendragon.   Brucemont nodded.

                “Aye.  Or not so much changing as adding onto it.”  He said.  “We will still say the Azure was away in Dravania-and we were in contact with him, but that he stopped around the time of the attempted coup by the Brothers of the True Faith.  The reason why we changed our setup in Dravania was not only to keep an eye on Nidhogg, but to try to find him.  Obviously, we let the Lord High Commander know, and it was decided to keep it as need-to-know.”

                “…That could work.”  Illaenne mused.  She crossed her arms.  “At least for the High Houses.  I don’t know about the Inquisition…”

                “It’s the best we can do.  Ser Aymeric will work on what few connections he does have left with the church, and hopefully the High Houses will come to our defense.”  Brucemont said.  Lifting a hand, he rubbed it over his face.  “As for the Western Highlands strings…I’m honestly tempted to pull everyone off them and restation in the Central Highlands.  If that bastard attacks another unit, we might not be so lucky as to get help out there in time.”

                “We can’t leave, what about Falcon’s Nest and the other camps?”  Another dragoon called out.

                “They’re more than likely going to get orders if not today, then in the next few days to abandon and come straight to the city.”  Therese answered.  Brucemont was about to add to her statement when he noticed the door at the back of the room open.  In stepped a woman in the colors of a healer novice.  Looking around, she caught his eye and scurried up to the front of the room.

                “First Lance, this is for you.”  She held out a note.  With a frown, Brucemont took the small square and unfolded it.  Reading over the contents, he pressed his lips together before crumpling the paper. 

                “Kauchoix, take over.”  He ordered.  “I need to visit the infirmary.”

 

\-----------------

 

                “He was the first one to wake up.”  Mathye said, pulling out a key that was on a chain around his neck.  “At first, I thought he was feverish-just babbling on, but then I listened…and that’s what made me send that note.”  He inserted the key into a lockbox.  “I think you need to hear it.  But with how bad off he is, I need your permission to do this.”  Brucemont looked at the unconscious Laurent, and then back at Mathye.

                “How long will it set him back?”  He asked, voice quiet.

                “I don’t know.  Dante tends to get overprotective of him when he’s hurt.”  Mathye said.  “He’ll be healed up, but aside from that…”  He trailed off.  Brucemont closed his eyes.

                “…Do it.”  He said.  The healer nodded.  Turning away from the lockbox, he reached for a manacle that was secured to the bedframe.  Gaze hooded, Brucemont watched as Mathye systematically locked up Laurent’s wrists, ankles, and then finally bound the other elezen firmly to the bed by a series of belts secured over his chest and hips.  The manacles and belts were padded to prevent injury, and Mathye moved back over to the lockbox, withdrawing a syringe filled with a ruby-colored liquid.  Features grim, he leaned over Laurent, inserting the needle into a neck vein.

                “Sorry, you two.”  He muttered, then pressed down on the plunger.  Contents administered, he stepped back-and just in time, as Laurent’s eyes suddenly snapped open.  The irises were dragonfire blue, and his face contorted, snarls escaping his throat.  He attempted to thrash about-but due to the bindings, the most he could do was barely squirm.  Another snarl escaped his lips as his gaze first focused on Mathye, then Brucemont.

                “First…Lance?!” 

                “Laurent?”  Brucemont held up his hands, feeling Bastien stir to life inside him.  Fire licked though his veins, and he blinked to try and ease the feeling of his eyes burning.  “Laurent?  Dante?”

                “Y…yesss.”  The bound elezen’s voice was distorted. 

                “Laurent, get in the saddle.”  Mathye ordered.  His voice was warping as his own inner dragon, Hrist was starting to surface.  “Or Dante, ease up.  You’re safe…as safe as we can make you, anyway.”  The elezen attempted to twist about again, his breathing raspy.  The dragon’s blood had acted as a powerful healing potion and stimulant-healing the dragoon’s injuries while at the same time, provoking the inner dragon’s rage. 

                “Mathye said you had something you needed to tell me.”  Brucemont said, moving to sit on the bed.  He reached out for one of Laurent’s hands, hearing Bastien make soothing sounds towards Dante.  He could hear Hrist as well-the two bound dragons crooning songlike to try and calm their kin. 

“He said it was important, it’s why we gave you this.”  Laurent nodded jerkily, his fingers tightening around Brucemont’s own.

                “Nidhogg.”  He swallowed, and Brucemont could see ghost-like, the faint image of Dante coiling around his neck.  “Something happened…to him…after he’d sent…sent Celeste flying.”  Now his voice was changing pitch, becoming deeper, more resonant-evidence of Dante bleeding though. 

                “Acted like…what you call…you mortals.  You call it a fit.”

                “Fit?”  Brucemont repeated, looking at Mathye.

                “When somebody…hurt…in the head.”  The healer’s eyes widened.

                “A seizure!”  He exclaimed.  Laurent/Dante nodded. 

                “That.  We saw him fall.  Roaring in pain.  His body thrashing about-and for a few minutes, he was not dragon.”  He swallowed. “He was mortal. But he kept moving strangely, and then we heard it, a scream.  Not a dragon.”  Brucemont’s lips parted in shock, and he lifted his gaze to Mathye.  The healer stared back at him, eyes wide.

                _< Is he suggesting what I think…>_ Before Bastien could finish, Mathye/Hrist cursed, barreling forward.

                “Laurent!”  The elezen’s eyes had rolled up into the back of his head.  Brucemont scrambled out of the way, watching as Mathye gripped Laurent’s wrists to channel healing aether.  After several moments Laurent’s body relaxed, and his head lolled on the pillow.  His breathing was now steadier, and Mathye slowly let go.

                “He needs to get out of the city while this works out of his system.”  He said.  “Charibert’s minions are skulking about. One mistake is all they need to distract the city away from the much larger problem.”  Brucemont didn’t reply, his mind still reeling from Laurent’s words.

                _…It couldn’t be._   What he had seen at Falcon’s Nest-he was certain that Estinien had died, his very essence choked to death by Nidhogg’s presence, leaving only his body.  Yet from what Laurent had just suggested…

                _< Maybe?>_ Bastien suggested.  Brucemont lifted a hand to his ear.

                “Matthiaos.  Infirmary, now.”


	36. Straws and Preperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brucemont gives orders for one last attempt at finding anything that may save Estinien, while the final test for a dragoon-squire is approved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (been MIA for a while, sorry. Life has been...well, it's been a bit difficult, and I've been struggling with a fair bit of depression and anxiety. 
> 
> Still in theorycraft territory here, please enjoy!)
> 
> \-----------------------

               “Thordan V, Thordan IV, Thordan III…ah, here it is.”  With a grunt, Matthiaos pulled a leather folio free of the drawer.  A cloud of dust flew up at the item’s dislodging, and the dragoon sneezed.

                “Ah-choo!”

                “Why the hell is Brucemont asking about this shite now?”  Jeannoix asked, waving a hand in front of his face to keep the dust away. “Ser Wrymblood’s dead.  Its a given at this point!”

                “Because, and keep your fucking trap shut because I’m not even supposed to tell anyone…”  Matthiaos shifted, walking over to his desk.  “Brucemont thinks there might be a chance that he’s still alive.”

                “What?!”

                “Laurent and Dante said they saw something.  Nidhogg taking a mortal form, screaming with a mortal voice.  Course they were under the influence of dragon-blood and fucked up to the seventh hell and then some, so…”  Jeannox stared at his partner.

                “That’s not possible.”  He said.  “I’ll give him credit, he lasted far longer than anyone thought he would with that infernal armor but for him to be alive at this point…!” 

                “I agree with you.  But tell the First Lance that.  He wanted me to look though the restricted files on the Fortemps dragoons.”  Matthiaos popped the rotted string on the folio and opened it, taking out several yellowing sheets of parchment paper.  “Wanted to know what the absolute limit was on the chance to reverse the transformation.” 

                “A sennight, right?” 

                “That’s the theory anyway.  But I heard it was dependent on the dragoon’s will.”  Matthiaos answered.  “If you’re fucking stubborn enough, it’s possible to hold out for a fortnight, maybe even a moon.”  He started to go through the papers.  Jeannoix crossed his arms, looking thoughtful.

                “It’s also how the transformation is trigged, right?”  He asked.  “Dragon’s blood is normally what kicks it off, but then I’ve heard stories as well.  Dragoons who had such severe cases of battle-mind that they couldn’t fight it anymore, it was easier to let the dragon take over.  Or they couldn’t subdue their inner dragon, and it eventually gained control.”  The elezen paused as a thought occurred to him, and he looked at Matthiaos.

                “Are you the only one looking, or…”

                “Let’s put it this way.  Fortemps is basically the only House that let the dragoons who turned-let some of them live.  At least for this generation of dragoons.”  Matthiaos said.  A rap on the office door made him quickly set down the folio and papers on his desk, quickly covering it with more files.

                “Who is it?”

                “Pendragon!”

                “Ah, enter!”  The door opened, admitting Vahn.  He fired off a salute to Matthiaos, who nodded. 

                “Captain.  Jeannoix.” 

                “Pendragon.”  Jeannoix replied.  “How’s your wife?”

                “She’s doing well, I see her right after this.”  The black-haired hyur stepped forward, holding out a paper to Matthiaos.  “This is for Reinhardt’s final trial.  I just received word he passed his fourth.”

                “Ah good for him!”  Grateful for the change of subject-and also pleased at the news, Matthiaos took the sheet.  “You’ve done well with him, Pendragon.  He’s a credit to your skills as a dragoon and a teacher.”

                “Now if the boy could just get laid he’d do much better.”  Jeannoix cracked.  “Gods be good, is he really that socially inept?” 

                “That’s being worked on, I assure you!”  Vahn said, holding up his hands. 

                “Maybe him being that much of a stiff sod is Halone’s revenge for you being a complete and total man-”

                “Hold on.”  Matthiaos interjected.  Lifting his eyes from the paper, he stared at Vahn.  “You want to do _this_ for his last trial?!”

                “Yes.  He…”  All traces of humor had fled from Vahn’s face as he paused.  “…He’s still struggling with his dragon.  I have two components for him passing this test.  The first is to awaken his dragon, and the second…he needs to learn the cost of the duty he’s about to swear himself to.”  Matthiaos continued to stare at the blue-armored dragoon.

                “You are aware that if he doesn’t come up to par, it’s going to be on you to put him down.”  He said bluntly.   Jeannoix hurried to his side, craning his neck to look at the paper.  His eyes widened.  “No second chances, no nothing.” 

                “I’m aware.  If he doesn’t pass, he dies.”  Vahn’s voice was grim.  Matthiaos stared at him for several minutes more, then sighed.  Bending over, he set the paper on the desk and signed it.

                “Make the arrangements, and I’ll get others to come witness.”  He said, straightening and holding out the paper.  Vahn nodded, accepting the sheet.  Snapping off a quick salute, he turned to leave.

                “Vahn.”  Stopping, the hyuran man turned to look back at Matthiaos.  “You can change your mind on this.” 

                “No.  I want it this way.”  With a sigh, Matthiaos nodded.

                “As you wish then.”  Beside him, Jeannoix was vibrating.  The moment the door closed behind the hyur, he spun on his partner.

                “Matthiaos, what the fuck?!”

                “Vahn’s squire, he has the right to test him how he chooses.”

                “But that-” Jeannoix spluttered.  “Matthiaos!”

                “Just start praying now the boy passes.”  Matthiaos was silent for several moments.  “In fact, pray _both_ of them survive.”


	37. An Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a Knight-Dragoon trial, as the Order gains a new member...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Short and sweet chapter. Been a while since I've updated, trying to get back into this. Haven't had a lot of inspiration to write lately.)
> 
> \----------

                In the corner, the drachen-mail gleamed whenever a light was cast upon it.  The color of the Coerthas snows, it still looked as if it had just come straight from the smithy.  Matthiaos shot a glance at the armor, repressing a sigh.

                _At least he’ll get to wear it._   Which in the long run was what mattered, but now the attitude of the one wearing it…  Matthiaos’s eyes flicked from the armor to the form on the nearby bed.  Reinhardt was lying still, his skin covered with sweat.  He was heavily bandaged, and every so often blue aether shimmered around his head.

                “Vahn should be back in several moments, ser.”  Matthiaos turned his attention to the door as it opened.  Carrying a tray with a basin and towels, Riven Pendragon walked in, setting the tray down on the table next to Reinhardt’s bed.  Dipping a towel into the basin, she wrung it out of any excess moisture before starting to pat down the sleeping teenager.

                “It’s alright.  How has he been?”

                “Restless last night.  Woke up screaming once.”  Riven dipped the towel back into the basin.  “But his wounds are healing quickly, I imagine I can unwrap them tonight.” 

                “And your husband?” 

                “He’s…He was shaky.”  Riven exhaled, pausing.  “I admit I did not like his idea for testing Reinhardt either, but that is an area I have no authority in.”  She resumed patting down the younger Midlander again.  “I was just grateful the two of them came back.  Though from Reinhardt’s injuries…”  She looked at Matthiaos.  “Was it as bad as it appears?”   The dragoon-captain of House Fortemps was silent for several moments, his lips pressing together.

                “…If his dragon hadn’t awoken when it did, he would have died.”  He said.  It was far too blunt, but Riven Pendragon had proven over the past several moons that she was no wilting flower.  “He took too long to engage Vahn.  Now when it did wake up…”  He trailed off.  “He almost had Vahn in a few places, and that was when he wasn’t under control.  He managed to snap out of that, but just barely.”  Matthiaos shook his head. 

               “If Vahn hadn’t gone through what he did with his partner, I wouldn’t have approved this.”  The Cobalt Dragoon’s former partner had turned traitor to the Order and to Ishgard and had gone so far as to attack his former brothers and sisters.  The experience had scarred Vahn, and it had been the central component of Reinhardt’s final trial.  The newest member of the Knights Dragoon had needed to prove that no matter what, he would fight…even if his heart had been broken by one he had trusted.  It was that aspect which had made Matthiaos come to check on the boy.  Once Reinhardt was healed and ready for duty, there was a very good chance that his relationship with Vahn would sour, thanks to the events of his final trial. 

               “I can understand why he didn’t want to fight him.”  Matthiaos knew that Reinhardt viewed Vahn like a brother and vice-versa.  It wasn’t a good idea for teachers and students to become close—given the nature of the dragoon training.  “But…ah hells, this is going to be a cock-up.”

              “Then how does it not turn into more of one?”  Riven asked.  “These two men are very dear to me, and I know any fractured relationships will only damage them further and damage this family.”  Matthaios bit back a grin as he looked at the younger woman.

              “I pity anyone who tries to challenge House Pendragon in any way as long as you’re the Baroness.”  He said.  “Hell, I pity Vahn and Reinhardt if they ever start showing scales!”

              “I’ve already informed Vahn that if he ever did turn dragon, I will be the one leading the charge to beat him back to normal.  Reinhardt is going to get the exact same speech.”  Riven’s voice was cool and composed.  Matthiaos chuckled, and then sobered.

             “There’s not much that can be done.  When he wakes up I’ll speak to him, and I imagine one or two of the other veterans will want to do the same. If he’s got any issues with your husband, we’ll see if they can scrap it out—figure Reinhardt’s at least entitled to a few licks.”  The absolute, absolute last thing the Knights Dragoon needed was infighting of any kind.  Riven nodded.

             “I’m certain Reinhardt when he awakes, will be appreciative of your coming.”  She said softly. “And…if you could calm Vahn in any way as well, I would be in your debt.”  Matthiaos shook his head.

             “The fact that you’re a calm and steady presence for them both is enough for me, in fact for the entire Order.”  He said.  “We undervalue you dragoon-brides.  The ones that actually stick around and make it work, that is.”  Riven chuckled.

             “I love them.”  She said simply.  “And then I just go from there.”  The sound of a door opening made her head turn.  “I believe that’s Vahn now.”  Matthiaos nodded, offering a quick bow.

            “Baroness.”


	38. Prelude to the End (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aymeric leaves with the Warrior of Light for Zenith, and Brucemont has a meeting with the High House Dragoon Captains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (And we head into the final stretch for the story!)
> 
> \----------

                 “Aymeric’s gone?!”

                “He left early this morning with the Warrior of Light and the other Scion.”  Brucemont said.  He lifted his head, looking at the assembled High House Dragoon-Captains.  “He’s going to meet with Hraesvelgr and ask for his aid.  If we have the support of him and his brood…”  The blue-haired elezen paused.  “We just could have a fighting chance.”

                “How long will it take them?”  Therese asked.

                “If the weather holds, and they don’t run into any trouble—with the manacutters, they should make it to Zenith in three days if they push them.”  Matthiaos responded, eyes narrowed.  “Four and a half if they took chocobos.”

                “Manacutters.”   Brucemont confirmed.  “Has anything changed with the Horde?”

                “It’s been dead silent on the strings that border Western Coerthas and Dravania for the past fortnight.”  Kauchoix said. 

                “The same for the Central Highlands.”  Illeanne said.  “Not even Svara’s brood has stirred, and this is normally the time they try to start trouble.”

                “…They know Nidhogg’s preparing.”  Therese murmured.  “Getting ready for one final assault.”  Brucemont inhaled, leaning forward to put his elbows on the desk.  He closed his eyes.

                “What’s our status?”

                “Beauregard was the last for his drachen-mail and finishes off the first years.”  Matthiaos said. 

                “Nobody’s in the infirmary or reporting any illness.”  Kauchoix added.

                “We’re closed in as much as we can get with the strings.”  Ileanne reported.  “All we can do now is wait.”  Brucemont nodded, opening his eyes and looking up at the other dragoons. 

                “The First Sword will issue the mandatory evacuation order at midday.”  He said.  “There is a window of opportunity for those who have families under your command to get them out.  And at this point…”  Brucemont trailed off.  The words were in his throat, he wanted to get them out, but it was hard to do so…

                “First Lance?”  Matthaios asked.  Brucemont closed his eyes, bowing his head and swallowing.

                “…If they have family, if they have friends…if they have shelter outside of Coerthas…to go there.”  He said softly.  “If they want them to survive.”  In his thoughts Bastien keened softly, feeling Brucemont’s distress.  The idea of having to flee Coerthas entirely was traitorous, almost a sin.  

                “We will pass it on, First Lance.”  Brucemont nodded, waving a hand in dismissal.  The moment the door shut he swallowed back a sob, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes.

              _Halone forgive me…_

             _ <It may not come to that.>_ Bastien whispered.  _< The Locks still could be safe.>_ Brucemont dragged in a breath.

                “I don’t know if I can believe that, Bastien.”  His voice was raspy.  “I don’t know if I can at all.”


End file.
